CRIMSON AND CLOVER.

The universe has a way of getting me off my ass.

I've been living,

I guess,

inexhaustibly sucking out the marrow of life.

Politely.

I'm here,

I'm here,

A little late,

a little lost

but still as always,

hella festive.

2019.

It's a lot to sum up,

I'm ever and always grateful for the strides,

for the madness, the magic and everything in between.

Time is fluid,

 though,

 Life is a continuum

and Self-improvement is constant.

but I'll spare you the small talk.

See,

Love is one shitty ass ,crazy ass feeling.

I've spent a lot of time 

on me,

Some of which

I've spent

dreaming, visualising, 

of a love that's my own.

To have and to hold.

But ideas are distant,

and ideas are dreamy,

velvety cloths.

And I'm hung on ideas,

hell bent on ideas,

I was gifted and cursed 

with such vivid imagination.

and because of it

I coin my own heartbreak.

I'm not heartbroken,

not technically,

not in the socially acceptable sense of the word.

Things just don't necessarily always align with our ideas,

and that's okay.

We're all about that higher purpose,

right?

right.

I just amuse myself on how I so easily 

slip into daydreams,

for someone who spends her time

being so well put.

or trying to be.

See love isn't logical,

you can't pre-study 

and no matter how well you think you think

you know or understand the subject matter,

you realise you barely understand the lingo.

See love is a language

and it's madness,

and gibberish.

See love has no manuscript,

see love has no rulebooks,

it has guidelines,principles

so to speak

but nothing like a template,

you just trust the universe,

you just trust that

Everything He gives you,

is right for your brand.

And for someone who spends

so much time vesting

in wisdom,

nothing about love is clear cut,

there's no clear cut monochrome pattern,

everything is relative, subjective, 

Dual

because there's no sole-ownership.

See love is a sandstorm

it whips up

unseemingly,quietly

in the corners

of a sultry room

in a sultry conversation

in beautifully well put together grammar,

amongst two unsuspecting wanderers.

Love's a sly fucker.

I curse because I think it makes me sound real.

How pretentious.

*Insert Face-palm emoji.

See for someone who is cripplingly self aware

love has you blind-sided.

Love is a damnation of sorts.

A fixation,

and for all I had made peace with,

within myself

I want to unravel.

Like a young couple redecorating

in prep for a baby.

Love is being flustered,

unsure,questioning,

just like the young couple

wondering if the new arrival

will take to pink or blue or something more neutral

if they'll like the giraffe on the wallpaper

or the little rustic cot 

or they're more into a modern flare.

And there's being yourself,

which I thought I did

I mean,I do

seamlessly,

but there's unearthing, unravelling,

wondering whether it is enough,

whether it is too much or too little

questions you'd thought long answered.

second guessing.

every gesture, every word.

Love has you reopening your wounds,

and questioning your flaws

stuff you didn't think about before.

And you see the need to rebuild, restructure,

you who was so put together.

Because you want to be perfect,

not in a Kardashian/Jenner, teenage girl in the mirror

conformist Calvin Klein underwear model

(note how I neutralised the one sided gender tone)

kind of way

but for you

I want to give the absolute best.

You deserve the world and rainbows and bucket-loads 

of sunshine

and you soon realise that to look besides your own happiness

has a sunny sense of gratification.

We are flawed

and we will love through it,

but I want to be better,

I want to do better

I want to pick up my slack,

to realign my internal floorboards 

so to speak

to patch up those cracks in my walls

I've been meaning to get to.

I know,I know

I know my mantras,

I know,

I'm full grain, fortified whole meal,

And adding goodness still

but you're causing havoc in my control room.

And all systems have had to go back to basics.

See love,

has you questioning your emotions,

and being stunned by your vulnerability,

it has you

you shivering,

because you are so exposed.

Love is quivering,

love has you twitching,

buzzing,

a mixture of adrenaline,

and drugs,

and bed-peace 

and more drugs and a rush.

A riveting,oh- so- good  rush.

But above all else,

love is shitt ass scary,

love is shitt ass terrifying,

and for someone who has drawn so much comfort in solitude

and learnt to have an internal self support system,

the idea of incorporating someone else into this, 

this,

fortified dome of a

micro-universe,

self-sustaining eco-system

is absolutely freaking terrifying.

I think that's why it's lowkey easier

to sing along to love songs unattached

now every freaking lyric

has depth, has context

it's easier

to sing your self-love anthems

to the half-ass lovers

who seek your affection

it's a whole lot simpler

than the real deal.

It's a whole lot easier

than embracing the idea of 

that one freaking person

who's king of the curve ball.

Because love in its purest and finest form

puts in question everything you once knew.

and it has you scared shittless 

and if you thought you were an open book

they've just flung the covers

and you realise
you're a flimsy little girl
and you sound just like one.

And you miss shitt
like the crispy, crinkly feel of their hair
and you can feel their fingers curled in yours
and you can feel them pulling you closer
and you relate to the lovers on screen
and you can now so easily soak up their emotions.
and you keep checking your phone,
and you can freaking hear their laughter,
and you can imagine their response to things.

And it's silly 
and it's everything,
and it's easy and it's hard
and it brings you peace 
and it's distressing.

I'm never like this 

I'm not easily scared,

but I am with you

and that's absolutely terrifying.

and you're not even mine.

But we're crimson and clover,

and the universe has an interesting way

of joining the dots.

Happy 2020.

-I hope you dance.