Month: January 2017

Wrecking Ball

I would not start by describing the calm I was sitting in before it started, because if I do, I will go too deeply in the details of the poem that was to be, but that is not anymore.
I will start from when I saw the sudden, swift movement of you, coming closer and closer; I will start from the shivering and the chills down my spine.
I will start from the felicity I could experience as the beginnings of your being fell on me; I will start from the smell that at first instilled in me nostalgia, like that of raindrops on mud, but then I realised I don’t like that smell. Not if it remains for so long.
I will start from the heavy wind that blew me off my feet; I will start from the electrifying feeling I had when you thundered into my life for the first time.
It was much similar to how, he too, came in, like a wrecking ball, trying to break my wall, that I built so carefully. I felt it shatter again.
It was a different reality now, unhappily happy, pleasantly dreadful, weirdly normal. It was what goes on inside of me all the time, but yet is sudden, un-looked for, abrupt, quick, hurried. 
It was a different poem then, because that calm was the calm before the unanticipated storm that you were, came in so gracefully and wrecked havoc without so much as a whisper in my ear.