Masks

Dearest,

here is a letter of my garden, of which you are the newest flower.

1 January 2018

ME

Recently the fabric of time has given me few or no observations to reflect on me and others. Either too many things are changing very fast, or the apparent fast filling of my former void had transcended the boundaries of my capabilities to handle. One one hand is this life I should be satisfied with completely. And then there is another which starts on a fading memory of someone leaving me amidst a strong bond and has constantly given me upheaval and turmoil; the one which brings me closer to your silhouette in the dark; the one which makes me feel alone in a crowded room.  As my nature curtails to it, i have always gave precedence to the latter, for it makes me hopeful-a force i don’t rely much on. But isn’t it morbid to not to be?

I have always told this to those who have failed me:

You go on adventures for now. You would rather face oblivion than face me. You would rather see my clothes on the floor or on me. You would rather sly in anonymity and sarcasm than face the wrath that makes. You would rather fake your timid love than receive my passion. You would rather be black and white than take my garish ways. You would rather make a beautiful face stare you with lies in the morning than see my truth. You would rather not love, than be with me.

But still i am holding onto you, you all, your decisions and this life of uncertainty because maybe unknowingly it defines me and my interests. I have been less careful than careless. But how can I be not?  I have always found, solace, entertaining. It’s a terrible quality to have in oneself. Its something which has kept so much at bay, so much in a threshold, so many storms contained. I fear you’ll let them free. I fear you’ll strip me from the thick clouds i have surrounded myself with all these years and prevail over my weaknesses. But you don’t need to know that yet. Keep onto those expensive clothes, and so will I. So is the mask I wear and here I am in this room right now, wearing it thick, looking at you from my bare eyes. 

Bear with me if you have so far. I’m enumerating the steps to you, the mistakes I've made, the mistakes I've endured. Read them as them-living in my brain like immortal memories. Read them my love:

POPPY

You were the most decent in that abomination. The one who hides so much in your breast. The one who could lit up my days and nights. Your fuel was my desire and mine yours. Sitting in one corner of the room with the most pleasant red jacket and jasmine aura. There had always been a sternness in your aptitude and of lately it had reached its pinnacle. You wear the poppy flower mask. Abducted from a cosy mountain valley of yellow and blue, to this sinful of a city. You had always been an addiction, for all your lovers. Was I an exception then? Afflicted by a need to stay near you, yet repulsed by the very same quality. Your mask was a totem of truth for me. Because I have now unveiled you-beautiful but painful. Sinful but constrained, ambiguity in concessions. So i had to leave you. Your mask couldn’t stop me, you did. But maybe I was too free to have nurtured you. I removed that public mass bit by bit, losing myself and gaining myself in you. I’m guilty that need to reform you went away. We all make mistakes. But babe unfulfilled love is the most romantic one. I’ve heard you have wore that mask again. Its uglier.

SUNFLOWER

A lot of people might not know the very famous flower of sunflower is not actually a flower. Its an inflorescence- a collection of hundreds of flowers, culminating to the very absolute of male and female combined in one perfection of nature. Hidden in children’s books and keeping up with the facade of absolutism and binary. You knew it was you. The cutest like the sunlight. My sunlight. The first ray of stronghold morning, the endings of days, the drunk nights and with them, all their beauties- and you were all of them. The sun following you wherever you looked, people following, me being one of them. Like a reckless cloud, yearning for your thunder, your first face-yellow, fair, spectacles on, looking from the dashboard or over the pillow. Oh how i wanted all for myself. But i didn’t know it was the mask I was looking at. As night dawned over the horizon, your brown male flowers wither and freckle. Your female flowers fall and die. A small westerly, like me, left you totally bare. So weak! And to my surprise, you turned to lies, you turned to lust, your true self never wanted the sun. It wanted skin. Skin that wasn’t on me. Skin that can never be on anyone else. But then comes the day again and the pretense continues.

DANDELION

Like the mask you wore, the substance of your self was as hard as the hardships you had endured. I never liked you, or your mask. But you were kind enough to give back unconditional love, or so it seemed. I don’t even know if I deserved to contain it in my twisted self, but for the briefest time I did. But then I could not anymore. Your endurance is pleasingly effortless, but in my deepest self interests, I wasn’t the first one to see its flaws. It was based on fear and fear is a dangerous thing to base your affections. Maybe that was why when I had left you stranded in a sea with raging waves, you dwindled to the threshold of breaking down. You were unable to realize my reasons, however shallow it might sound, they were honest. But then you did something I had not anticipated. You put this mask of the most fragile thing in the world. You threatened me to break me. You questioned your own perseverance and stronghold- and what I did was to just wave you free-only to let you break, to let you build. It may sound selfish, but you needed this.

JASMINE

I would not hold myself back when i would start to describe your beauty. The rarest of the rare, standing naked beside the big window, a stranded building in the background, studding moonlight throughout the room. i have seen your smell take the forms of your body, like mercury dancing. Slender and subtle, slim and pure, hot and cold-amidst the various other forms of happiness you so beautifully emanate. I have not seen such beauty alive and transcending onto me. It was as if I had touched a steel flower,  malleable, pure and beautiful, mechanical yet alive. Alive in its turmoil and its truest self. You won’t accept all this, I know. Your place in your own mind is a low-ranking wreck ready to fade in the night, but fortunately your smell betrays you. It stirs onto people like me and make me understand your worth. You should always bloom away and let all masks evade because the biggest mask you wear is yourself.

*********************

So here are we my love, in a closed room in a desolation on new year’s eve. I see you smile and evade me, your eyes don’t lie. They seek me incessantly. They don’t need me yet but they shouldn’t. i don’t know your masks but i hope like the zest of it, the slender roughness in sheets, the curved beauty of its prominences, shamelessly conjoined by a silent music which hums in your head today. A lot many beautiful faces surround you, adore you, kiss you, mask you-perhaps you wear them as masks, don’t you might sit here on this greedy chair looking unperturbed and emotionless, but you have to learn to ignite the ambers. I bet you already do and something stops you. Let it remain mystery for now. I would not be invited by the mask you wear, but I will be when you will remove it, among other things. You must not give in to your persistent flag-bearers. They might be the pathway to salvation, but they aren’t it. I am.

Let your dreams not bound your desire. I left it here on this boring bar because you don't were too busy not being yourself.

Flourish your desires my love. Give them meaning. Read this letter when in your bed, the wine glass near you, the cigarette silent and calm, listen to the knock on the door. It'll be me.

Ready to bleed.