Tag Archives: #passion

The growing Want

Blue_Poles_(Jackson_Pollock_painting)I glance everywhere but in the one direction I want to look, that I’m desperate to look in. My eyes ricochet off the cars parked parallel on the roadside, to people clumped in their chatter around me, chatter that I’m lost in.

I look down at the scoria under me and notice my toes curled in my sandals. I realise they’re almost cramping, and my jaw is tight as my top and bottom teeth bite into one another. I ease my clench.

My gaze meanders up my leg to where my knuckles stand erect by my thigh, as shiny red and white bulging sacks that are about to explode from my hand. My fingernails dig deep into my palms, ready to release the effervescence.

I don’t think you know what you do to me, how you make me tremble in this heat. I cannot seem to look your way, although I did glimpse you walking toward me in this crowd of waiting, in your cool swagger and wearing your trademark, dark sunglasses.

My breath labours. I don’t know how much more I can bear, knowing that you’re standing behind me and wanting to speak to you but not knowing what to say. Words about how you make me feel marble and blend in my head. Never have my thoughts been so streaked.

More disconcerting is that you must notice my scramble. I shift my dress around my shoulders and look somewhere, anywhere. As I try to breathe deep, a hint of awareness comes to me and I sense that you don’t know what to say either.

I feel your twitching and searching eyes behind me, your own agitated splashes eager to release. I must find some courage. No one has made me feel like this before. If only you knew.

I spot a seat away from this waiting and head there for a reprieve of my trembles. You’re probably watching me. I tug at my dress to be sure it’s not riding up under the bag that hangs from my shoulder. I sit and breathe deep. A sigh. That’s better. Regroup for a minute, I tell myself.

With some air flowing back into my head, I look up and see you heading toward me!

‘Come to get away from the crowd,’ I say as you approach and without thinking.

‘Yeah,’ you say, and sit beside me.

To my surprise, I feel my body relax. We begin chatting about nothing and my uncomfortability begins to dissolve. Occasionally, my words tumble to land wherever they want, but the more we talk, the easier they flow.

I wish I could see your eyes though, hidden behind those glasses. A lot seems hidden behind them and the clothes you wear, the formal, crisp shirt and dark trousers. Only the curls in your hair seem natural and free to reflect the true you, relaxed as the rubber and leather bands that dangle loosely around your wrist.

Until I notice your knee bouncing nervously. You’re feeling what I feel too! I know it. Those Pollock sparks seem to be blasting brighter and bolder between us.

An attraction that can’t be acknowledged and that remains in my heart as the secret inside my secret.


*The growing Want follows on from an earlier blog, The Want

The Want

A coy peek sideways and I hope to catch your glance, or even better, your smile. You must not see me steal that look but then again, l want you to catch me watching you, for then you’ll know.

You must know by now. My smiles and gestures, my hello waves. Surely they paint a masterpiece equal to a Jackson Pollock painting, of this sparking magnetic pull to you. Surely you see it, and feel it.

Standing there in your green check shirt in the late evening sun, wearing dark sunglasses to conceal looks that I hope come my way. I feel my body give in and draw into you.

Your smile that’s shy today, your swag. Great poet Rumi, knows how I feel,


In the waters of purity, I melted like salt
Neither blasphemy, nor faith, nor conviction, nor doubt remained.
In the center of my heart a star has appeared
And all the seven heavens have become lost in it.


My heart pulsates and moves up into my throat. My head spins. I should’ve been brash and spoken to you this evening. But had I, people all around would have glimpsed the Pollock sparks zapping from me to you.

I want to feel you and look into your blue-green eyes of agate without being afraid that someone will see. I want to crumble at your touch and be with you without time always running away. Our sporadic chats are never often or long enough, even when they snatch an hour in time.

It hurts to want so fiercely, churns my insides to battle as gladiators and fierce animals once did in Ancient Rome’s Circus Maximus.

I can’t tell you how l feel, for if l do, our friendship may be lost. Then you’ll be gone forever, or will you – I don’t know.

At least I have our friendship, as  contained as it is, and I ought to be happy with that. Yet it’s not enough and I want much more. I’m not sure that I can have what I want.

Maybe it’s better to have nothing, then the want will fade away. Eventually.

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