the tale of two seatings

it was the best of times and the worst of times.

.: scene i:.

i was cool.
calm.
collected.
looked fine.
felt fine.
luxuriously satiated
with hours upon hours of sleep.
decked in my zawadi ( gift).
it was warm outside.
spring was on its way.
had been listening to her
on my way to 'the other home'.

then i saw her.

.:scene ii:.

i walk in.
and there she is.
seated nonchalantly.
the coolness evaporated just like that.
(((vumushh))).
didn't feel pretty no more.
zawadi didnt feel zawadi-like no more
i fumbled.
wished the earth would swallow me.
and the thumbling heartbeat wasn't helping the situation.
hours of mantra.
tonglen.
lesiurely soaking miles
ah umming to spring time
to quench the gushing heart..
vanished.
nothing
nothing
nothing.
whatever happened to progress.
fortify my heart.
forget reaching out.
no longer dance
to touching breasts
quivering thighs
hear her tremble
as i touch
she touch me
i got asked
whether i knew love.
understood love.
as if my eyes would lie.
my lips would speak of truths
that i am yet to fathom.
understand.
as if
i was unafraid.
of being branded a dyaic/woman
lover/shoga/ngochani/bulldagger/feminist

look into my soul and see the murmurings of my heart.
feels like this everytime i see her..