It all started with these words. “I am sorry.” My first heartbreak, something still lurking silently in my dating life. My mom said those words to me, – a nine-year-old child – as she left my dad and me. I felt betrayed, but what would I say to my dad: he was devastated. The pile of rejection started mounting from my primary school days. My iconic rejection on valentine’s day from Misty the generous: the girl all the boys desired, and their needs were met, except me. Took a toll on my self-esteem, but I kept trying. After various rejection from numerous – I mean countless – girls, and with the toll on my self-esteem, but I kept trying. After various rejection from many – I mean countless – girls, and with my self-esteem finally crushed: I gave up. Now, I am going on a blind date. I would prefer a one-night stand, but it’s a dare and I am not going to back down.

Tonight might be the night of my dreams, but that’s if I go for it: I can just call in sick. What’s the point of doing something, if you already know the outcome? For me, you can already guess by now, the possible outcome. I remember, the last two times, my friends set me up with girls: when I still had a little hope in me. I just started gaming, – that’s a cool name, for going out to meet random girls and trying to have a nightstand with them, – and I was having high polling: two-night stands per week. I was the bomb. I was comfortable in my success, till that little advice that friends normally give you, when you are the only single one in the group: you too can find love. That’s rubbish, I believe now – and this is if you believe in a creator – that our creator built everyone different and some people are not built for love.

On my first blind date. It went like this. I dressed my best, she dressed her best too and I have to say, I was struck by her beauty. She was a ten and that’s in my rating of girls. She had a nice body shape and a beautiful walking pattern. I was in lust and I was falling fast. We tried for ten days and I was . . . I will explain further later, but our relationship ended. My second blind date was just a spawn, but with a six-month length. What is so bad with just having no-strings-attached-sex? Let me tell you the benefits: self-esteem boost, lack of emotional connectedness, STD. I am just joking, but I find nothing wrong with it.

It was only seven o’clock and I was already pondering on what would happen today. I was scared and if not for this dare, I was going to miss this blind date. Love is a difficult topic for me to discuss because anything could go wrong, and I mean with my perspective that love is not necessary.

I rose from my bed, like I carried weights on each shoulder, greeting the blinding sunlight as it showered its breath of a new day on me. As my fear of today lingered still, in the dark corners of my mind. What should I do? What should I wear? What if I don’t go? Questions that couldn’t subside with even meditation. I pondered all day on these questions, till 4 pm. Then I got a dress, prepared my mind for any psychological shock from rejection and then started my journey to the restaurant just five-blocks from my apartment.

I was grateful to myself, for taking the extra precaution of mental preparation. My blind date was Misty the generous. Now is my chance. Maybe, the last the universe will grant me.

“Hello, Misty,” I said, with a terribly forced smile: sweat ran down my fingers, my armpit was damp, my legs . . . well, use your imagination, I was dancing on the spot. It was like holding your pee, from a guidebook on how to do it unnoticeable. Many thoughts, evolved from origins unknown, till.

“Oh my God . . .” She screamed.

My hands and legs went docile. I stood still as her hands wrapped my body and her tender lips flowered my cheeks. I was shocked, as this side of Misty, was unexpected towards me.

I promised to tell you about my first date, and this is how nine days went so fast. Her name is Julia Hans and as I said, she is a goddess of beauty or maybe it was just lusting talking. My lack of trust made me too attached. I was over-involved in her life, texting her like I made an hourly documentary of the world yet to be discovered. I check every friend of hers – especially male – those before me and those that just joined, and we were not even dating yet. I was addicted to her and my fear for rejection heightened it. Nine days are enough to scare anybody away, and I did an awesome job.

I went for a serious conversation with doctors and psychologists after the end of my second blind date. I needed to stop the trend. Although I have not overcome my disbelieve in love, my clinginess has reduced or maybe it just another protective mechanism. I will never know.

I am more afraid of myself than Misty. What would do this time? Casual sex solves these problems or avoids these problems. I stared at Misty’s face, as the conversation proceeded: from basic to technical, to sexual and then to life. I am a gamer, I knew how to bend any conversation to my advantage, and I was doing a great job. We stood up and headed towards my apartment for the next proceeds. Then my phone rang.

My alarm was ringing. It was at seven o’clock. Tonight might be the night of my dreams or I can just call in sick. You might never know, but I now believe a little in love. At least, I put a smile on my face, in a dream.

We stood firm.

As the mountians applauded our courage.

As the wind whistled in our ears.

As seas brought dead to our gate.

As our bodies watered the earth,

Under the demands of fear.

We stood ready.

For Greece.

For Honor.

For our families.

For Glory,

That will echo forever.

We fought.

At a disadvantage.

At the hot springs of Thermopylae.

At the gate of Thanatos*.

At the edge of the world,

And we slipped away.

We shall kill these Persians.

With our spears.

With our shields.

With daggers hidden in our boots.

With our hands,

if the need arises.

We shall die.

On our feets.

On the bodies of comrades.

On their swords.

On our faces,

with perfect defeat.

Blood soaked the earth.

Bodies piled on bodies.

The sky red.

Marking the end of day.

As the wind still whistled.

I bleed on my back.

Watching silently.

As the sun returned home.

Slowly, Till . . .

#poetry #challenge

Take a deep breath.

Read this words, carefully.

You will learn a lot, about us.

Our thoughts.

Our ways.

And path to perfection.

If it’s possible.

I looked at the mirror.

I could see us.

Our pains, our addictions.

Our fears, our failures.

Our liberation, our war.

Our hardwork, our dreams.

And I felt I should share it.

But, who are we?

I think I know.

As I looked straight,

in all the write-ups of this world.

Through the books of history.

Just hell bent, on finding an answer.

And this is what I found.

- Discovery.

Imperfection with perfection.

fears with courage.

failures with success.

pain with joy.

discipline with indiscipline.

liberation with addictions.

war with peace.

love with hatred.

hardwork with laziness.

nightmares with dreams.

good with evil.

rain with sunshine.

light with darkness.

- Contrast

But like a Jian*

we need each other.

to soar to heights unseen.

to accomplish great feats.

to be better at anything.

to survive and live.

Just like a Jian.

- effect of unity.

* - a bird that shares wings . . . only posseses one wing. Unless a male and female pair lean on each other and act as one . . . they’re incapable of flight.

Always a fleating moment.

built up due to lack of communication.

difference in opinions.

fueled by the ego of men and women.

Poor leadership.

But now blood has been spilled.

families divided, maybe forever.

tears, rolling continuous down.

eyes coloured deep red.

Lips wishing for the next meal.

Throats dry not because of drought.

Gases blinding those with eyes.

Something not experience

But it’s an expression of us.

- War.

The stars or the ground.

the only choice of view.

Beyond this rusted iron bars.

Hope a rare virtue.

because tomorrow might your last.

freedom becomes a scary idea.

the bondage in the mind.

only if you souls understand.

- Words of prisoner.

I thought it was only by using knife.

now it’s very easy.

just write a tweet, a message.

write virtually anything.

with the purose to demean your target.

maybe only ten words or fifteen.

and beyond the black mirror.

that has enslaved the world.

you have your weapon.

blessed are those.

that their targets have many haters.

for they shall see their deaths on the news.

shortly after the past.

- How to get away with murder.

#poetry #freeverse

Do you love me?

I ask this question daily.

As I looked at your faces,

Because all I see is a mask.

This sense of rejection.

A seed planted in my early life.

watered by countless disappointments,

Has gorwn into this big tree of distrust.

My love Life.

At the risk of never occuring.

As the pretty damsel.

Looks like a loaded gun aimed at me.

My brain runs on the fuel of emotions.

I have betrayed logic.

I have put it the sidelines for too long.

I have ran solely on fear, worthiness

and more.

I think its time to address, Mr. Sadness.

Cut down the tree of distrust.

Build great foundations

of new values

to kill this trust Issues.

#poetry

I couldn’t believe it. I hurt her feelings, her trust, I push her away. Now, I am faced with the truth: the painful truth of my misunderstanding. Just a little patience, trust and a lack of quick judgement. I would have not done this wickedness. I am sad, scared: I just lost a precious relationship. I cannot forgive myself. Why? A question I have been asking myself, as fear to face her keeps rising.

It all started with an email. Someone sent me, a picture of my wife with another man: no kisses, no hugs, just a picture of them together, laughing. I pushed it off my mind, but my wife came late that night. Mistrust, a slow poison. I wish, I just discussed my mind with her. The next day another email, I started thinking hard about this. I was troubled at work, performance dropping, daydreams like never - before. It was hard.

I was struck, deep in the mud of mistrust. Every move, every call, every late night. It was hell. My mind, pounding hard to the rhythm played against my marriage. Slowly, every email was like a news feed, I was addicted to my suspicion. I was looking for ways to get more information. Remember, I said the email only sent me pictures: with no kisses, no hugs, just two people together.

A sad story. I got really pissed, when I got home. One hot afternoon, not just the weather but also at work. My boss was really annoyed, ranting, making everywhere uncomfortable. No one was perfect today, everyone was guilty of a crime. I got a big presentation preparation and he made me look like a fool. Worst day ever, then I got home to see my biggest fear: she was in the house with the guy – in the pictures.

I stared hard, my mouth disconnected – just hanging there – my fist clenched. I was angry. Why, would she do this? Why, here? My mind was racing, the heart was competing too. I was in the worst situation ever. Mistrust blocked my reasoning. I didn’t listen to anything she had to say: I wish I did. It is my fault, I must accept that. The painful truth came out several days after I had given her a divorce letter. The emails were tracked, and I finally understood. I was played. He played me, to get my wife and I lost.

Tears, they can’t correct the mistake. Sitting in the lonely house. I decided: to go and ask for forgiveness. She might reject me, but it’s the cross I must bear.

She finally accepted we meet, after two days of begging. My ego was crushed. I hate doing things like this. We met a café, some blocks from where she now lives. Five minutes of awkward silence, two more just staring: I was low on words. I finally just blurted out, “I am sorry.”

She just laughed, still looking at me. It was disgusting, but I had to get her back.

“How hard … can that be?”

“You never listened.” She continued with tears in her voice.

“Just … I don’t …” She stammered, trying to use her hands to express herself.

Then another dose of awkward silence “You are such a bastard, but I … love you.”

Then the tears came racing down, I took her into my arms: as I cried also.

I looked at the mirror.

I could see us.

Our pains, our addictions.

Our fears, our failures.

Our liberation, our wars.

Our hardwork, our dreams.

It made me think.

Who are we?