A Story. In a Story

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They burst into vibrant life
In the depths of my consciousness.
And I struggle to capture them
Before they dissipate into the veils of my mind.
Even as I write,
They twist the plot as they please.
Telling me it's not mine
To control their destiny.
I tell them, they have to conform
To fit in with my storyline.
No, they say, why don't you
Pen our tales instead?
No, I insist stubbornly
Even as the figments of my imagination
Create a world of their own,
With neat little houses and orderly lifestyles.
Desperate, I play the God card
And add a touch of misfortune,
A wind gone crazy
Or a man gone mean.
And they come scurrying back to me,
Pleading for their lives.
Gloating, I wait awhile
Before I let them have it all.
My way, of course.

Stranger in The Mirror

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The heart skips a beat
At the mention of a name,
Or the whiff of a fragrance
Deeply-loved and long-lost,
The scrap of a tattered love note
Tucked into books that you don't dare open.

But you cannot show you care.
Not any more.
You look to the needs of your family,
Which shrouds you in a cocoon of love
So tight, you dread the tender silken threads
Will unravel at the sharp edges
Hidden in the mysteries of your secret smile.

A passion hidden in your heart
Is safe in its crimson confines.
A love hidden from the world
Is never ridiculed.
You hold it tight as your veins are flooded
With the strength of a love so intense
You feel your heart will burst.
You are sure the world can hear
As your heart does its tumultuous leaps.

But you must hold on. Tight.
For fear of the labels.
Home-breaker. Adulterer. And more.
For fear of the pain
You foresee in the trusting eyes of your little ones.
For fear of your partner's look
Of absolute disbelief. And the sound of his heart
Splintering into shards that pierce you.

And you go on. Forever afraid
Of whispering the wrong name in the dark.

While I Wait

Warning: I haven't written poetry in so long I'm not sure this attempt will be a pretty one. Proceed at your own risk. :)

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While I wait
I think back and remember
The way your hands enveloped mine;
Always as if my fingers were petals fragile.

While I wait
I hope you think of me too
When the skies open up with melancholy showers.
A snuggle under the covers!

While I wait
I hope you have moved on,
Made your peace with your inner demons,
And are not afraid of Life any more.

While I wait
I hope you haven't moved on
From thoughts of me and all our bittersweet memories.
Would that make me narcissistic or simply selfish?

While I wait
I will myself to be all-giving
As you were in another life,
Letting me fly while you wallowed in misery.

While I wait, I pine.

Another life

Reading The Bride Stripped Bare recently, I was in turns stunned, awed and appalled by the surprising secret life of what everyone considers a stay-at-home wife. The novel, which was criticised as literary porn, is "basically a very honest take on sex, from a woman's perspective," says the author Nikki Gemmel, who first published the book anonymously in 2003.
That aspect aside, what I was most taken by was the protagonist's secret life, her musings, her lies, her joys, her smiles, tears, jealousies and more... all running parallel to the other, seemingly regular life she leads. And it's not like her regular life is insipid or meaningless: it's filled to the brim with its own moments of fun, joy, grief and all that... Reading the book, I wondered if many of us do the same: smile at one person and think of another, scream at one for another's faults, love one even as you live (quite happily even) with another!
Even if most of us do not go to that extent, most of us do have a secret life that only we know about. It may just be a closet crush, a deep fantasy or a even unpublished scribbles that you may not have showed even your closest friends.
The novel intrigued me, to say the least... What do yo think? Is a secret life the norm? Or is it a devious deviation?