Just kids

We were so young back then. Life was brand, spanking new and all had to be learned. Wide eyed and bushy tailed, just let loose by anxious parents and suddenly I tripped over you. You had really blue eyes and there was an air of fire around you. I would catch you watching me in the classroom sometimes, but you were different from the other boys; you didn't slip me notes or ask me out or wonder if I had a boyfriend. Instead, you watched in silence until one day -- when all of that changed.

And now you are coming to see me. After all this time. And I really don't know what to make of it. And I don't know if it's so wise. I don't know if it's so smart. Because if you get here. If I look at you. Things will get complicated. If you get on that plane. If you step out at Heathrow we might find ourselves lost. Because I can't help thinking maybe, just maybe, you're the boy that got away...

and you weren't supposed to.

Jake Owen – Barefoot Blue Jean Night

Hem

Jag längtar hem nu. Till mitt land, min stad och till de mina. Jag längtar efter mina lördagar när telefonen aldrig slutar ringa. Och medan ljusen strålar i neon från Folkets dansar jag mig varm i natten. Jag träffar tusen människor jag bara träffar här och jag blir lika glad varje gång. Jag har en kontext, jag har en självklar tillhörighet och det finns så många händer som kan ta emot mig. Jag vill hem nu. Till staden som aldrig sover, till det nordiska ljuset och till den självklara längtan efter politik och revolution. Jag är trött på regn, jag är trött på att vara en exotisk fågel, jag är trött på bristen på intellekt. Jag vill simma runt i nattens sammetsmörker, jag vill balansera på knivseggen, på gränsen av striden. Jag älskar striden. Jag älskar slaget. Jag berusas av vår närvaron in en sommarrondell. Och gatorna? Ja, de är inte längre hans. De är mina, de är våra och kanske är tiden snart inne...

Veronica Maggio – Mitt hjärta blöder

Bright lights

Sometimes all nights mingle into one. Sometimes all the Lord Byron's of all the days that have passed can be found in and between the words of a single man. The lines of yesterday and today and tomorrow get blurry and I am left in a strange room, amongst people whose smiles reaches through and onwards. And a man with black, unruly hair and pale skin looks at me through brown eyes and I suddenly see us. So young, and radiant and confused and glowing and reading, reading, reading poems into the night. And I pull away into what has passed but he still follows, not trying to erase you, but in search of a space of his own. Sometimes you're in a room you never though you would find yourself in. You're punching in digits as he juggles glasses just to impress you, but your gaze makes him drop one and it shatters against the floor in a thousand pieces as you feel your smile reach your eyes. All of a sudden he is visible as the past fades into the background and the now becomes very still, very important. The wine glass finds your lips and as he watches you lean away from all that he isn't you know that you are all those seconds, all those minutes and hours that have passed, but that life is here, life is now and it's in your hands.


Keaton Henson – Small Hands

Sam

I miss you. All the little pieces that made up the man I once knew. Your eyes were brown and green and blue and it's blatantly clear that I never let go of some things. Like the way you gently held my hand down by a canal in a time far, far away from here. Like how your eyes were so blue, your hair so blonde and you spoke of all those little hopes that makes up a life. How you danced with me, on a crowded dance floor but the moment and the space was only ours. We read the Tempest and a Midsummer nights dream and life was brand new and crisp and I was made of glass but you didn't break me. Walking through this town. My eyes and my senses wide, wide open. Thinking that you were a poem. Thinking that you were part of the light that surrounded us. Seeing your heartache so clearly I could touch it. I reached out gently but you weren't ready and sometimes that's life. But maybe, just maybe, I can be one of those little hopes on your way.

Bo Bruce – Save Me

Surprise?

S: I want to see you.
I: Well, Sunday would work.
S: So, I take it you work on Saturday then?
I: I can do next Saturday, but not tomorrow. The upcoming week will be totally manic.
S: Don't think I can do next Saturday. This Sunday would have to let you know last minute.
I: Ah, shame, seems we're not going to be able to get this together sometime soon. But hey, there will be other days!;)
S: Hey, I didn't say no to Sunday just said it might be a bit last minute.
I: Well, how do you define last minute cowboy?
S: I'd have to let you know tomorrow or Sunday morning? Lol
I: Sorry cowboy, I wait for no man. Never have, ain't going to start now...

Matthew And The Atlas – I Will Remain

O2

So, you're taking me to O2. So, you're making space for me in a life that is not mine. So, you're so young and so very old at the same time. So, you make me laugh until I have no breath left as you're making plans to steal a tractor with me. So, you are an enigma still, but you're stepping closer and closer with each second.  It might be time to take that leap. This might be the moment and you might be the cowboy worth fighting for. You're not really what I thought you would be. I guess you would be pretty impossible to imagine had I not met you. Because, if there is one thing I know-- there is only one of you in this whole, wide world.

So, come on: let's get on this train, let's try these shoes, let's drive really fast down a deserted highway...

And let's not look back.

Frank Turner – The Way I Tend To Be

Girls and boys

This is about as beautiful as it gets. You're about as beautiful as it gets. In your skinny jeans, with your beard and mass of dark hair. With you beaten up Converse and your trusting eyes. (Don't trust me, I might break you.) It's like you should belong to a different part of my life. My hair was still red then, but I wrote a lot of really bad poetry and met the man who became one of the great loves of my life. I find rest in that thought, but then you look at me like that, just like that, and I suddenly don't know right from wrong, yesteryear from today, or tomorrow. You pick up your guitar, you play on and you shine so brightly that I have to look away, because you're a star and I can't risk putting you out. I can't risk your heart.

William Fitzsimmons – Passion Play

Sometimes

I'm doing a poetry reading on Friday. So, I went through all these words I have written on this blog over all this time. And I found many of the most beautiful pieces were about you. Because, like it or not I touched your soul and like it or not you grabbed mine by the collar if its shirt and refused to let go. (It's just your way really.) You and I will never be. We are history. But I know now what kind of man I am looking for. I might have found out anyway but it probably would have taken longer. I love you. Like I've loved a few others. I'll keep you in my heart, in my smile. Like I've kept a few others. And I am still hoping that one day I will get the chance to show you all these words. Just because I would like you to know that you are inspirational. That you are worthy. That you can do well. That you can live. Well.

James – Sometimes

And, I have to pinch myself, because I can't believe we were a "to be continued". Not after this:

http://ninafunderar.blogspot.co.uk/2011/08/drizzle-inferno.html

Love

I made a new playlist today. For all these people I meet and for those who always remain. For the lovely, bright and enigmatic redhead that has become my partner in crime. (You see my ego, my splendor, my complexities and you love me for them.) For the small, feisty girl who walks faster than the wind and who cares enough to chase me into bathrooms (just in case I am crying). For Fly-boy who knows exactly how hard I can be and who loves me still. For the oddball couple who have taken me into their hearts and become my second parents in this cold and damp and polite country. For that slight chica who gave me a chance and who doesn't regret her choice. For the stout gentleman who always greets me in Scottish and who is fighting for all of us. (You might lose, but I'll never forget your persistence.) For that little German girl who has her own struggles, but who still has time to plan my future with different bearded men on the way to work. (It's not time yet, but thank you chica.) For all I have learned on this path I am traveling and for all those that surround me with their warmth -- who embrace me and who keep me in their hearts. For that beautiful, beautiful man who stepped into a bar last night, all dark hair, long legs and twinkling eyes and actually saw me, beneath and around all my corners. (But honey, you are way too young -- there is too much you have not seen yet). For all my loved ones up there in the North, the ones I always, always miss and long for. For the King and Mrs Pink -- you made me what I am -- I love you both so much! For that beautiful brunette who has finally found her way. For my redhead in her roundabout (I think you are finding your way as well, but it's slightly winding still). For the lovely, smiley blonde further up North. (I know you have your demons, but know this: I miss you, I always miss you!) And for my white-haired heroine who truly believes that I can accomplish anything. (I can hear you cheering from the sidelines, farmor!) For the complicated, dark-clad lad up in the city of snow and ice -- I love you so much I might break (and you know it). And for my Sis, who fights, who will die fighting. (You have shaped my path so much more than you know.) For all those that make up the pearls on my neck-less. You are forever with me. Thank you.

This one is for you: The Cave Singers – Shine

Lesson

I may not have much in terms of riches. I may not have a lot of property to my name. And yes, I sometimes do feel like nothing is solid beneath my feet. But, I think I am finding what I came here for. I had to go across oceans, I had to lose everything familiar, I had to cut every anchor to find my way. I am not there yet, but then again I don't believe in totals, I don't understand completion -- all that really matters is the path. Even when every step aches. Even when I twist and turn and suddenly want nothing more than to travel back in time. To an apartment with high arches and big doors. To noisy streets, Marlboro lights and colorful snapshots of a life that couldn't possibly continue without leaving destruction in it's wake. I will continue to turn new leaves. I will continue to feel too much. I will continue to live a life where fear exists to be challenged and where the revolution never ends. But this time I know that in the end, I'll be left standing.

Kari Kimmel – Black