Author: Unique

I don't write. I create. #EveryHeartbeatCounts

Coldness from the Gap.

I woke up/I wake up.

I open the window/I opened the window.

I feel the cold/I felt the cold.

I consider the freshness of the air circulating/I considered the coldness of the circulated air.

The actions about I repeat over and over, I let the coldness in and again I start over. I was not aware of the gap until my space felt colder.

Mind Games

When I know you’re a liar, lying to me right now.

Yet, I give you time and attention.

I hear my instinct saying, ‘Unique! What the fuck are you doing? Why are you bothering? You know he’s mentally screwing YOU!’

I love your voice, loved your voice, I adored the attention.

I accepted your lies, for nanoscopic specks of affection.

The Mindgame was a game played by two.

You believed I believed you and I knew the truth.

No Caller ID

You called on the 3rd of May 2020 at 23:53

My phone was on night mode, which means there was no ringing for me to see or hear.

You withheld your number unknown was the information provided.

I don’t know who you are or why you even decided to call so late.

It could have been important? But I guess I’ll never know.

No caller ID, no numbers on show.

Object: The Stove

When I first met you, you were always cold and unwelcoming. I clicked switches and turned hobs and you just wouldn’t turn on.

I eventually saw your bright red glowing rings. So beautiful!

I placed a saucepan on the stove and warmed up some oat-milk, mixed in some oats and sprinkled some sugar.

The Stove, electric. Unknown to me before that day.

The stove, new and a learning curve for me in the ways of the kitchen.

The stove, I burnt a lot of food at the start. The temperature too high always too high but felt too low, to begin with.

Now that we’ve had some time together, I understand what you want and you know what I need.

Our shared memories and the nights you’ve witnessed my greed.

The Stove, are we in this?

Yes! Of course, we are. I’ll cook with you and they clean with you, your elements are my fire.

Home Sweet Home

A roof over your head.

Food in the fridge.

Stop complaining!

Access to hot water, hot and clean may I add.

Stop complaining!

Fresh fruit and vegetables, the word fresh being key.

A warm bed to sleep in, but you want more you see.

Stop complaining.

We’ve been asked to stay indoors, the way I hear many of you moaning, you would’ve thought you’ve been asked to go to war.

Home sweet home.

101

I read online there are 101 ways to tell someone that they’re a crap friend.

I heard from a friend an apology that they’re a shitty person.

I imagine new people to become acquaintances and real friends – ones that aren’t trash, like the friends around my ends.

I real online there are 101 ways to make an omelette, I try to stay away from the idea of it.

I heard from a friend that people who eat eggs are cruel.

I imagine new rules for the people that set rules.

I read online there are 101 ways to say, ‘I love you.’

I heard from a friend that only one of 101 is often used.

If using was an occupation, 101% of the ignorant population would be hired – Well recorded as volunteers.

 Online a web that’s sticky.

The Exchange

It was on a dating site we matched, chatted and exchanged numbers.

We went on to exchange sounds.

Exchange feelings.

Exchange memories.

Exchange love.

Exchange resentment.

Exchange life.

Exchange disappointment.

Exchange expectations.

Exchange new desires.

Exchange old likes.

Exchange lies.

Blocked.

Deleted.

Care

A simple phone call.

A basic text.

A brief e-mail.

A letter, what next?

A twenty-minute walk, outside whenever you like.

A bite into a homemade brownie, two bites into warm delight.

A hot bubble-bath filled with pink-himilayan salt and essential oils.

 Chilled Cow playing on YouTube and care is all I know.

Can You Show Me?

Can you show me your heart and I’ll show you mine?

I want us to compare love, especially at this time.

Can you show me your mind and I’ll teach you about life?

I want us to compare thoughts, even more so this time.

Can you show me your memories and I’ll tell you my story?

I want us to compare history, although history is history.

Saturday

If ever there was a day to reflect, I hear Saturday is the worst day to select.

It’s usually busy and predictable.

But would you bet on a Saturday to meditate? Mediate? Or simply to differentiate from the time we already have allotted to us?

I guess that’s a question for you to facilitate?