Shorts: Bittersweet Sunday

A Sunday is such a bittersweet day,

Where joy is shadowed by Monday not being so far away.

Where you lie and the clock doesn’t seem to slow,

As the time and the dials pass faster than you know.

It appears to be the shortest day of the week,

And it never quite fulfils the relaxation you seek.

But nevertheless, you’re grateful still,

As it starts to recharge, some of your will.

If you’re lucky you lie, with the person you love,

And you cosy with blankets, and thank stars above.

Although time flies; you wouldn’t have it any other way,

For what would a week be, without this bittersweet day.

 

 

 

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Shorts: Smiling for a reason.

You’re smiling. Why are you smiling?

A long time has passed, although for all you know, it could’ve been the passing of some moments. You don’t look at your phone, or to the windows, and the sound of the clock has disappeared. Minutes and hours flow past, like tiny brittle rock slipped into a gentle stream, the underbelly of the little rock coursing against the river floor. It too will travel with turbulence, to a place of rest, where it needs to be.

Light fills the room, although not so much as to cause you to look away from the source. Feet are intertwined hanging off the edge of the bed. The two bodies look merged into one from under cover.

By the pillows, her nose is tucked into your shoulder, under the warmth of the sheets. Her cheeks tingle at the softness against her face. The covers bring a comfort, surpassed only by the press of her body along the length of yours. She pulls herself close to you in small motions, like tide lines on the sand. Her skin warms yours, although she clings to you for the heat, and something more.

Her hand rests, fingers splayed out across your chest, lovingly scratching at your skin. She looks at you now and then, hoping to catch your eye; but her beauty is so stark, you cannot hold a gaze for long. When she does not catch your look, she smiles into your chest instead. Occasionally, she lets out a long satisfied sigh as she does it.

Her hair smells sublime. But of nothing you can identify. Your fingers scratch lightly against the small of her back, and your hand smooths out across her body, feeling every groove. You mark them in your memory. You focus on things to remember later; because you can think of no place where you’d find greater joy and comfort. Its your happy place, the place you’ll return to when you need it most. You pull her closer, or hypothetically you do, for there is no closer you could be now. As your fingers run through her hair, you lie and think how thankful you are, that she’s there.

Suddenly you realise the room was never that bright, you were tricked by the ethereal glow that seems to follow her. She has a habit of accidentally tricking you with that.

At some point, she pulls her body to you even more tightly; and as her breasts press against your side, you take a breath, and you sigh.

She looks up and you, with those amazing eyes, entirely piercing and completely vulnerable all at once. She asks you, in almost a whisper, “What’re you smiling at?” with a cheeky grin. She bites her lip and rolls her tongue over the front of her teeth, waiting for the response.

You return the pearly whites, “Nothing.”, you say. But you know fine well you’re smiling for a reason.

You’re happy. You’re so happy. You’re in love.

And that’s all there is to it.

Shorts: Sixty Minutes

No matter what you’re doing in your life at the minute, no matter how busy your day appears to be, or how much furrows your brow each day – take sixty guilt free minutes; for yourself.

You, are as important as anything else on your plate at the minute. To handle all the things you consider important, you must first maintain that which allows any of it to be dealt with. Or even thought about and decisions considered.

Don’t feed the negativity, and the burden of the world. By feeding it, it only grows stronger, more confident, and more ferocious. It will visit more often, Pavlovian. Instead, feed creativity. Intelligence. Feed passion, love, and kindness. Feed selflessness, motivation, and self improvement. If nothing else, feed relaxation.

You deserve a warm bath. A hot chocolate. Your feet resting up against the table, with something wrapped around your body to keep your heat. You deserve your favourite song playing over the hot of a candle at night.

You deserve kind words from friends and loved ones. You deserve hobby which drives you, regardless of what end becomes of it or its futility.

It’s very easy to get caught up in it all; to wholeheartedly believe you should receive the full weight of burden that taxes you every day, and yet require no rejuvenation. And while that sounds convenient, and very noble; It isn’t. It isn’t brave to struggle, for the sake of it, to endure hardship without reward. It’s just sadism. Or masochism depending on your inclination.

It’s mental flagellation –  and your mind deserves better than that, because it allows everything you are, and how beautifully unique you are, to even take place and be perceived. Even if you get mad with yourself, disappointed, or even just a little disillusioned, remember you are absolutely astonishing.

Talk to a friend, or even better someone who will listen. They can remind you of that fact. They can remind you that life has been continuing outside of all that hinders you from sleep at night, and make larger objects in the mirror appear smaller than you might have thought. They can remind you that life will be okay, and whatever obstacles you considered large, are now long forgotten. So you can relax knowing that whatever stresses you out now, too will pass. In fact, you can take that as the one certainty in a world of anxiety. It will pass.

There is no once else like you, for every nuance of yourself. For small details you do not even notice in yourself, but that a poet would spot in a heartbeat, and write a sonnet without your knowing.

Relax. Be you.

Take sixty minutes. And between us, we’ll call it maintenance.

Shorts: The Little Things

It’s the small details, that are by far the most important.

I sit in work, the room is dark for the light hurts the eyes of some other co-workers. I enjoy listening to them jokingly bicker and banter with one another, but now they leave to grab some lunch. The sounds of their voices drift into the background and beyond the door.

And so I sit, with my favourite meal for lunch. On my lap I have Of Mice And Men by John Steinbeck, and with no one but myself left in the office, I play some soft music from my Spotify.

I know this will only last for a few moments. If I’m lucky I’ll have fifteen minutes.

But what a fifteen minutes it will be. When I look back on the day, no matter what happens, I will look upon the small details, which are by far the most important. And when I look upon them and judge, I will say with a gentle sigh,

“Today has been a good day.”

Shorts: The Weekday Rejuvenation

That catharsis. That beautiful catharsis. When you’ve had a bad day, at the end of a bad week, and you’re looking for something to extinguish that impending dread of… Well any exertion.

Wow, any extra exertion in any direction at this point could push you over.

When it’s all piled on top of you, and you know you only need to make it to the weekend for some rejuvination, but it seems so far away no matter how long it is… And then…

You have a night. You have a night that cuts your wait short. For suddenly some release has come home to roost, earlier than you thought you’d have to make it.

And what does that for you? What gets you there early?

For me, it’s a cold beer, a book, some music and a warm blanket on the couch.

It seems so simple, but sometimes it just doesn’t work that way. There may be no beer, there may be no songs that move you, or no words that touch you.

But when it happens… When all those little pieces fit into place… Oh boy…