Oh who would ever wanna be king

You make me go crazy
Not knowing
Then
And again
I follow the sunlight
Even though
You make my days bright.
I’m not worth a fight
I never even tried
Mind and heart defied.
Only once
Have I cried
No me
No you
In between reality
And a dream.
I like you
Just don’t know
Who the you is
Don’t know if you’re a dream
With a known face
Don’t know who the person
Behind the face is
Yet I look for God’s grace
For myself and what I think
You are
Should be alone
But when I think of you
It’s like there were two
Running, running
Still hiding
I blur the other faces.
I know you’re not
There
Not that you would care
That I notice
Writing you in my mind’s eye
Gives me no reason to cry
Embellishments
Maybe a white horse
Yet still I see what
Is in front of me
Trying to understand
If it’s any real
Is it wrong,
Should I write you a
Song?
Surely I will burn the words
Throw them to the wind
And yet even then
I won’t have peace
Again
Rejecting, accepting, and
Rejecting
I feel. I Feel!
But soon I hope
I will
Forget you
Forget this feeling
In between fiction and
Reality
In between cookies
Away from the baking
I might let go

I killed a cookie

I killed a cookie

I killed a cookie

I replaced my dreams

instead of cookie

I dream of Ice Creams

I killled a cookie

with a time I did not see

and that time I did not see

made me realize cookie

was not for me

Not that I am looking

for anything else

to fill my need for some sugar

No need to worry the story has ended

no pain no nothing

Indeed very simple

If you look at a cookie

you want a cookie

but if you do not go to the bakery

then you cannot want any baked goods.

Tiered of starting so many stories

when deep down

I know they won't get any endings

So I killed a cookie

and now I'm free

to be happy

and enjoy my own family.

p.s. I bet he's forgotten all about the cookies.
then that really means I'm free

No Words For an Orlando

''Yet other things had started to torment her thoughts. They were the thoughts about a guy. In all her life she had had little interest in guys and had only had brief passing crushes. Now this time this crush wouldn’t go away. It was lasting almost over a year and a half, and getting worse as time went by. In the last two months she had dreamt of him almost non-stop only when she didn’t dream was she sure not to see his face. But that was not the worse part. In one of her dreams he had held her hand and kissed her. The next morning she felt nauseous as she recalled the dream. The nausea continued until she saw him a week later and offered him a sugar cookie. The next month was spent in euphoria. Every time she saw him she ran to her friends and ended up laughing endlessly as if she had lost her mind, which she honestly believed. He was just a guy, not an alien or a monster. He wasn’t that good looking or at least she hadn’t thought so two years ago. Around him she felt an urge to run away and yet urge to stay. ‘This thing was so stupid ‘she thought to herself and indeed it was. The stupid thing was that she couldn’t accept that having a crush on this guy was not a bad thing. Out of utter confusion she ask everyone about ‘boys’ even asking her four, five and six year old cousins. Their conclusion was simple ‘if you like a boy tell him’. They also told her how to get a boy-friend. You were supposed to go up to the boy and say ‘hey do you want to be my boy-friend, and if he said ok then you could kiss on the lips.’ Rosalind almost wished she was their age,  not because of kissing a boy on the lips but because things were much more simpler for them. Yet she could admit that simple wasn’t always the most beautiful. Like with a piece of music. If you only had a melody where would the fun be in hearing the subtleness of the harmony? It was harmony that brought colour into the music, at least in the music she liked.

She liked his voice. She strained to hear it, strained to decipher it amid the other baritone voices in the church choir.

On her friends advice she started sending him e-mails. The first one she sent was a chocolate chip cookie recipe. She somehow found the guts to talk to him one day and tried to talk to him from time to time. She realized he was human and rather nice. Thanks to the small chats that were centered on cookies she found herself cured of her feelings. Or rather the extreme side effects such as the profusive laughter and the racing of her heart. Her heart beat still became faster but it did not leap out of her chest like before. Now the feeling when she saw him had become a comforting one instead of euphoric. It felt like a calm had come over her. She found this odd after having suffered so much euphoria during the past two months. When she spoke of him she smiled whole heartedly and when she laughed when talking about him she was able to control her breathing and henceforth control the laughter. She felt perplexed and confused. Did she still like him? She did for she found it hard not to look at other guys without thinking about him. She kept on having dreams where he showed up but now they had grown apart. Always would she glance at him from the side and smile like when she did see him but now in her dreams he didn’t even look at her. Even when he had first appeared in her dreams as part of the church choir he would always glance at her though simply and without meaning. Now he avoided her. She wondered what this meant. Did it predict a time to come when he would indeed avoid her in real life? She didn’t know. After all this progress to speak to him to be kind to him what had come of it? Perhaps a doubtfulness in herself, a constant process of evaluating herself and asking if she was worthy. What was she worthy or not worthy of? Him? She only had to be worthy of herself. And after all just because she was confronting her way of reacting to a crush did not mean she automatically wanted to date her crush. But deep down she did. She wanted just for once know what it was to like a guy and have him like her back. To believe that guys did know how to be romantic without wanting something in return. That they could treat a girl with respect, that she did not have to push away the idea of romance from her life and lock it into the room with the name ‘fiction’.   ''

Exerpt from No Words For an Orlando  by Melody

* The title is an allusion to William Shakespeare's  play called As You Like It.