Večnost

Trenutek, ko skozi čipkasto tančico ujamem tvoj pogled

in moje nosnice vzdrgetajo v ritmu prebujenega srca.

Trenutek, ko se blazinice mojih prstov dotaknejo tvoje ranljivosti

in se koža spomni čutne noči, ki se nikoli ni zgodila.

Trenutek, ko sediva v tišini razigranega popoldneva

in slišim vse neizrečene, na rob ustnic ujete besede.

Trenutek, ko moj nasmeh objame tvojega

in mi usta preplavi sladko hrepenenje.

Trenutek, ko požirek za požirkom spijem vso tvojo bolečino

in moje srce v naročje vzame tvojo drhtečo negotovost.

Trenutek, ko štejem svoje pritajene vzdihe poželenja

in razgaljena v svoji razrvanosti pričakujem čas slovesa.

Trenutek, ko se čas ustavi in trenutek postane večnost.

Tukaj sva že sedeli, kajne? Nekoč. Nekje.

by: Me 

Pred-Valentinovo

Z grozo sem ugotovila, da se ponavljam. Po hitrem pregledu mojega bloga sem namreč znervirano ugotovila, da se čisto preveč vrtim okoli ljubezni. Morda pa se je slednji ravno zato uspelo nekajkrat izmuzniti iz primeža mojih dolgih prstov, ki se prepogosto oklepajo vseh besed, ki se začnejo s črko L. Ljubezen, Ljubljana, labela, lahkotnost, lokvanj, ladja, lepota, če jih naštejem le nekaj. Je čas za spremembo? Seveda. Vedno je čas za to. No, to je zdaj Laž.

Rada imam črko L. Zakaj je ne bi imela? In glavno vprašanje, zakaj bi se ji izogibala ravno na predvečer dneva, ki je po besedah naših iznajdljivih trgovcev, posvečen najlepši besedi, ki se začne s to srečno 13. črko naše abecede. Ljubezen. Jutri je Valentinovo, dan kot nalašč za vse kičaste čustvene izpovedi srečno zaljubljenih golobov, ki zadnje tedne moj vhod vztrajno pacajo s svojimi fekalijami. Človek ne more, da jih ne bi imel rad! Ne vem, kdo si je izmislil frazo, da zaljubljeni pari spominjajo na 'golobčke'. Če bi to iskreno čustvo že morali pripisati pernatim prijateljem, bi sama raje izbrala labode. Ko se s svojimi vratovi ovijajo okoli svojega izbranca/izbranke, se jih kar ne morem nagledati ...

Zato bom jutri v mislih hranila labode na Blejskem jezeru in upala, da zame uprizorijo paritveni ples, ki me bo opomnil na to, da pravi ljubimci za izkazovanje nežnosti ne potrebujejo za to posebej določenega dneva, šopkov poceni rož in drugorazredne čokolade.  Imejte se radi dragi moji. Ne le jutri, ampak 365 dni v letu. Ker leto mine še preden se boste dobro zavedli, vsak izgubljen dan pa lahko pomeni ključen kamenček v mozaiku sreče. 

Dear Juliet ...

So I guess the fact that I am sending you these words,  tells you, that I do think about love. I think about it a lot, too often maybe, but what can I do ... Love is my muse and I do not want to imagine my life without this warm feeling inside. Feeling that makes me feel so alive. I have loved and have been loved so many times in my life that I really should not fuss about it. Actually, my life has always been fulfilled with LOVE. So I guess I got used to it. Maybe I even developed an addiction. Am I a love-addict?

Dear J, let's get to the point. As you have probably already assumed,  my midnight thoughts about love are actually about... Partnership love! Soulmates. Twin-flames. You name it. Oh Juliet, all great love stories do not end like yours did, do they? Because if they do, I am in a huge dilemma. No one wants for  their flames to die in agony to fulfill the absolute feeling of unconditional love! What would you do if Romeo was still alive? What if you would discover, he was not that special after all? Would you still stick with your decision and still see him as your hero? Would the magic be gone? Would Shakespeare have to write a sequel and call it 'Another one went down'? I guess we will never know.

You are probably waiting for my question, since that is what women visiting your wall in Verona usually do. Well, I do not think I have a question for you. Not the one I would not have yet the answer myself. Love should be simple. It should be a moment of magic and everything that follows that moment should just prove, that we have been right from the start. Right? So why do we fight for it constantly? Why do we stumble and fall, cry and pick the pieces every time something does not go our way? Maybe because we are not just characters from a book ... Our destinies are not in writers hands. We write our own stories. Does that mean we love to suffer from time to time, adding some extra drama to the timeline of our life that should simply be about enjoying the moments?

You are lucky Juliet. You are not fighting against the walls people build around themselves. Right the opposite! You use the wall, that beautiful piece of architecture in Verona, to make people open up to you. Pour their hearts out and stuck their stories on the wall of love. It is kind of funny, now that I thought of it. We are ready to pin our hearts to the wall, but we are often not able to climb the walls of the ones we love. Maybe we should not try to climb it. Maybe we should just open up, make a daring step, spill our colorful hearts on other person's wall and make it beautiful with it. Like people with their love letters do to your wall in Verona ...

That is exactly, what I will do dear Juliet. I will paint the walls of the ones I love and care about. Who knows, maybe that way they will not be ashamed of their walls anymore and will proudly show it to the world. It is worth the try.

Thank you Lady J! I am sticking this letter between the 3rd and 4th stone in the 5th line from the bench. I hope you will find it one day and write me back. Because it is never too late for love. Right? Right.

Sincerely,

your Shia <3

p.s. Inspired by movie Letters to Juliet. Thank you Hollywood.

V Pričakovanju Pričakovanj

Nedolgo nazaj sem se odločila, da ne bom  ničesar več pričakovala. Od nikogar. Tudi od sebe ne. Enostavno se bom prepustila toku dogajanj in videla, kam me bo naplavilo. Zadnje dni  ugotavljam, da se to morda sliši enostavno, a ni ravno 'my cup of tea'. Izgubljam se v tem nepričakovanju pričakovanega. Nekajkrat me je že vrglo na suho, parkrat zalilo,tako intenzivno, da sem komaj sproti zajemala sapo, sicer pa sem večino časa preplula sedeč na palubi, gledajoč v valove, ki so v sebi skrivali vsa moja hrepenenja, želje in ...ja, pričakovanja! Vprašanje za milijon dolarjev: Kako se odvadiš pričakovati?

Morda pa so včasih naša pričakovanja le naše najbolj skrite želje, za katere si želimo, da bi nam priplavale naproti ... Morda pa v njih le ni nič slabega, čeprav nas večkrat pustijo razočarane, razgaljene in razbite na koščke, ki se le redko v popolnosti sestavijo nazaj. Zaradi vsega naštetega res rastemo? Ali je to le sodobna oblika mučenja, verzija v celofan zavitega  mazohizma, zaradi katerega se počutimo žive?

Pričakujem, torej živim, ali pričakujem in ob tem počasi ubijam otroka v sebi?  Danes je soba s pogledom na moje srce polna pričakovanj. Ker trenutno ne znam drugače. Ker se ob pričakovanjih še vedno večkrat nasmehnem kot spustim solzo. Naj bo danes tako. Morda bo jutri drugače.