Blue Bird #Poetry

There is a bird on the tree.
The blue one.
No, not the blue bird, the blue tree.
The one in my mind, the one I am so fond.

There is a bird on the tree.
The sad one.
No, not the sad tree.
The sad blue bird.

The blue bird sings a song I know.
A song of pain not long ago.
Of pain beneath the skin, way below.
A song within the bone’s marrow.

There is a bird on the tree.
The bird that shares my mind with me.
The bird that scoffs and shares my dreams.
The same bird that hugs when tears reveal.

There is a bird on the tree.
My calm betrothed friend.
Last night he watched the tears fade.
He watched the cutter approach with haste.

My bird left the tree.
He found peace in another’s mind.
My troubles he couldn’t solve.
Now, I’m alone.

He left me, all alone.

Behind Closed Doors

A smile, is what I give you.
My tears you never see.

A kiss is what you feel too.
My lips at night they weep.

I long to connect.
For our souls to resonate.
For our hearts to sing.
And our love to bloom.

I long to detect.
Your moods and caprices.
So that miles away.
I soothe you at bay.

In truth, I cannot.

I wasn’t born this way.
The way you want me.
You want me to not be.
Not be the true me.
The true me is angry.
Angry at the banality of reality.
Reality smashes at a certain age.
The age of maturity or recognition.
Recognition at 15 , 26 or 40.
That life choices have consequences.
That life’s consequences could be a meal -or death.
The death of freedom, the death of choice.
Choices harder to make as time swims by.
Time the relentless ref.

I cannot give you that which you seek.
Your fight with me is lost in advance.
Take me for me or let me be.
Fight me and you will eventually flee.

I am one of them. The tale tellers. The observers.
We relish in the beauty of others’ dreams fulfilled.

Our dream is to narrate their dreams.
Our purpose, to document their purpose.

We are the observers. Our lives are meant as a passage. A mirror to existence.
My sacrifice is to edify. To express beauty and narrate excellence.

I cannot be tamed. I cannot be owned.

You either share me with the world or let me be.
My loneliness has never left me.
She shares my bed and my keyboard.
She shares my fears and deep thoughts.

We are dark roommates, bonded by the past and awake in our present.
She sees what you will never see.
She knows what you will never know.

Do not be jealous of her.
Your pain will only breathe more life to her. She fuels me.
You are my respite. My love, you are my respite.
Until she leaves me, you are my respite.

Would you be the last to leave?

Blog Title involves being single and associated emotions

From @himanivatyani's profile

I know I promised you two posts but I’d like…with your permission…to get a little selfish here to talk about…well…me. ūüôā¬†
Also because I am lazy and still working on the other  posts.
Seriously though, I had to write this post. Yesterday evening was awful.
My original title for this post was : “I am single and it sucks”. My ¬†friend told me I would sound like such a loser.
Maybe he was right. Maybe I sound like a loser.
Maybe I am  a loser.

 But, being single and being a loser have one thing in common:
both suck.
And in the post, I’ll explain why it sucks so much.
For me at least.

Or maybe I could discover at the end that it doesn’t and that I just want somebody to love me as much as I love her.
And that that somebody should not be my mom.
Like a best friend I can make-out with.
What beats that?
Priesthood maybe.But then again, it had never EVER crossed my mind to get into priesthood.
We’ll have this discussion another day.
I am single and it sucks.


Why? Entirely my fault. I complicate every conversation and I am always looking for a reason to be the smarter one. I have stringent rules( which I hardly obey) and expect everyone to. I use my brain more than my heart.
Word of advice: Don’t be an idiot. Don’t be me.
I lost the ‘idea’ of the ideal wife( yes, wife…not girlfriend) a long time ago.
 Here is what the profile of my ideal wife looked like:
A. Short in stature( to be precise…shorter than me)
B. ¬†Fair in complexion( what is it with fair in complexion chicks? Maybe it’s my Dad’s fault…)
C. Speaks fluent English and French ( yep I am a language nerd)
D. Loves cooking( duh)
E. Loves kids and wants to have at least four( and bonus if she would ensure that the first is a girl)
F. Plays Chess.
G. Plays video games.
H. Loves books and movies.
I. Organized. Very.
J. Less lazy than I am( very important this point was)
K. Meticulous with money.
L. Other positive values.
M. More positive and ESPECIALLY unrealistic values.
N. More.
O.You get the point
P-Z. If you have not gotten the point…just…continue reading.
I lived with this human in my head.
This image of the ‘perfect’ *scoffs* girlfriend.
Why do I keep creating humans in my head?  Maybe I take marriage too seriously.
Anyway, that is what the profile for  my ideal girlfriend  looked like.
 I still have a profile now.
Who doesn’t?
Don’t judge me! Consciously or not, if you look at the ladies or men you¬†accost¬† (especially those you are dying to get romantically involved with), the character traits ¬†become evident. For example:
1. I have hardly sustained a long relationship with a lady who spoke just French or English.
2. I love eating and am quite lazy so, I get really irritable when the hunger kicks in. I eat to live harmoniously with other humans.
This is paramount to my relationships.
Those who know me would confirm this.
3. And if a lady( or even dude) can’t sustain a conversation of more than 15¬†minutes¬†with me, there is a likelihood we will not be having conversations AT ALL.
Communication =Relationships 101. Basics.
Yes,I do have a profile.
Not of the ideal woman anymore. There’s no such thing as ‘ideal’!
I think the word ¬†was invented by a grumpy single grammar nerd who knew exactly how unfair the world was and chose to punish lots of humans after him. I am certain it was a ‘he’.
Only men get that grumpy.
Long before my crush crushed me, I had already had a change of heart concerning my principles . So, here goes nothing…
 Profile of my not-so-ideal woman:
A. Ambitious.
B. Will work honestly to achieve her goals.
C. Stubborn.
D.Likes me.
-An ambitious woman  can easily become an idea machine.
-Someone who works honestly won’t do evil or use people¬†to achieve his or her goals.
-A stubborn person fights for her beliefs.
-Anybody who likes me deserves to be ‘liked by me’.
¬†Note that ¬†I did not say ‘Loves me‘.
Now that¬†is a complicated. It is a word that makes me grateful to be human. Just like the concept of The Holy Trinity. If you can understand those two, there’s a high probability you are not human.
You’re not supposed to understand them.
At least in my opinion.


I am not a slave driver. I don’t want people to work FOR me but WITH me. I believe the highest level of any human relationship is interdependence. Everyone relying on each other.
Yesterday night, I returned from a long day in school and from running errands around the city.
I could feel in my eye sockets the desire to have someone help take my shoes off while I laid on my back. This someone, coaxing me gently into a bath and then preparing a delicious meal for my revitalization.
And she, muttering the most awesome phrase in the world:
You’ll be alright”.
I looked at my room, the emptiness, the scattered and unwashed garments.
It sucked.Truly did.
I was hungry and tired. I stepped out, bought some food by the roadside. Ate a little and started writing. Too exhausted to finish, I slept without even my daily reading regiment.
I slept alone, in my cold but comfortable mood. Sent a couple of text messages and introspected a little.
I have not always been this way.
I won’t die of loneliness-that I’m certain.
My mother raised me well, I can cook and take care of myself.
But, some days, I just wish I had someone to look after me.
Is that so much to ask?