Winter of Summers
Page 1
For Lang,
Love looks pretty on you.
Winter of Summers
Introduction
Winter of Summers began in the early hours, while I was sitting outside my hotel suite in Dubai, waiting for the Arabian dawn to break.
I hadn’t planned to write anything that morning but the words just started to flow, as if like magic, and there was no stopping them.
They became my constant companion, following me wherever I went.
Be it relaxing on a sandy beach on an island in Fiji, or strolling up the steps of the Sydney Opera House at dusk, I just couldn’t escape them.
And then one morning, as the mist rolled in from the sea, the words bid me farewell.
The very last piece written at the kitchen table of my home in New Zealand. Sipping a strong black coffee laced with whiskey.
I really hope you enjoy my fourth book, and find within its pages a particular poem or piece of prose that becomes special to you.
And whenever you read Winter of Summers, may my words become your traveling companion.
Wherever life takes you.
All my love,
—Michael x
Arabian Dawn
She possessed a rare beauty that was slowly revealed with every word she spoke—like how an Arabian dawn softly breaks the darkness with the gentlest of hands.
Into Depths
Into depths of ocean blue—
your summer eyes
reflect in mine,
your smile,
a rousing,
rising sun—
greets a morning
made for two.
We swim,
my love—
beneath a sea
billowing white,
upon a bed
of coral pink,
against the muted
light of dawn,
sun-kissed bodies
gently sink.
You Are Beautiful
The one thing we all have in common is our differences. Embrace your uniqueness. You are beautiful just the way you are.
Turned On
Oh, when it comes to being turned on, she said, it’s simple. You have to first unbutton my mind before unclipping my bra.
We Sipped
We sipped our sadness
in glasses poured—
from a bottle filled
with emptiness.
A Lighthouse in a Storm
It was a love that defied the change of seasons, the ebb and flow of tides, the transition from day to night—a lighthouse in a storm.
Trigger Warning
There is no trigger warning,
when the gunman
pulls the trigger,
no safe space,
when a bullet takes a life,
no sanity,
when insanity is elected,
and no humanity,
when the rifle
is protected—
but not the child.
Run
When you know you’re in a toxic relationship don’t just walk away. Run.
A World of Pretend
The sweet taste of sugar
quickly soured,
but I smiled
through the bitterness
at the end of our end—
for when a heart
so badly broken
refuses to mend,
all that remains
is a world
of pretend.
A Perfect World
I often found myself drifting away from reality. Seeking sanctuary within a world of impossible daydreams. Where our love refused to die.
When You Left
I still remember the gentle squeeze of your hand before you said goodbye. Like a little patch of sunshine found on a cold winter’s day.
Isolation
If only we could escape the prying eyes and virtuous finger- wagging of this small-town circus.
To run away and hide our love in some distant foreign city. Where the past ceases to exist and freedom is found in the company of strangers.
Until then, let’s just close the shutters, bolt the door, and switch off the lights.
And kiss in the dark shadows of glorious isolation.
Closer
Whenever you are away from me, the closer we become.
A Tired Butterfly
Our love—
a tired butterfly
trapped in a glass jar,
wings beating
like two hearts
refusing to let go,
oblivious—
to the reality
of fate,
disguised
as hope.
I’ve Tried to Forget You
I’ve tried to forget you, to move on, to run away—only to be held hostage by the relentless thought of “what could have been?”
Please Stay
Please stay,
just a little longer,
let not the ticking
of a clock
force our arms apart,
for time loses meaning,
becomes nothing—
without you.
Collaboration
Love is a story created by you but written by another’s pen.
Sharjah
My love for you—
comes from a place
where stars sing
to strangers,
and desert sands
hold the sea
in a delicate
embrace,
under a crescent moon
your kisses sweet—
lips sprinkled
with sugar dust,
pale pink,
rosewater infused
rahat lokum.
Where magic
wakes with the dawn,
the morning call
to prayer—
if scent made a sound
it would be this,
the rarest
of perfumes.
It is here
from a city of books,
my love for you
is written.
In Your Arms
In your arms
my anxiety sleeps,
where dreams
of calm seas begin,
the tranquility
of knowing
I am loved—
my salvation.
When the Dark Clouds Came
You were always the optimist. The girl who could find the tiny patch of blue in a stormy sky. You once said, “Love can find a way to overcome any obstacle.” I tried my best to believe you but my eyes could never see past the rain and howling wind. If only I could have shared your enthusiasm and shaken off the self-doubt that gripped my heart. Maybe things might have turned out differently. Perhaps you would have stayed.
I never found the courage to tell you just how broken I was. How I had nothing more to give. My glass empty, while yours remained half full.
I’m sorry I hurt you like I did.
For everything I said.
When the dark clouds came.
Books
My preferred way to travel is not a plane but a book. How wonderful it is to be transported somewhere new without having to leave your bed.
Little
Did I Know
Little did I know
how much you
meant to me—
my regret,
the bitter aftertaste
of hindsight,
walking alone
without the hand
that held my life
together.
A Single Kiss
Just when I thought I understood love, all that it could possibly be, you came along and explained its true meaning with a single kiss.
The Real You
I never lost sight of the real you—the goodness that lived within your heart. Even when you did your best to convince me otherwise.
How It Feels
How it feels—
when cool water
meets parched lips
on a hot summer’s day.
How that first mouthful
of coffee ice cream tastes,
when we’re stoned
watching Black Mirror.
Falling rain—
captured by dappled light
as it hits the leafy green.
The breathtaking beauty
of a storm rolling in
across the bay.
When a cat crawls
under the covers
and curls up against
naked skin.
A sip of strong coffee
in the morning.
How that slow kiss
under the stars
felt last night.
How words,
no matter how many,
can never express
this wonderful feeling—
the happiness
I feel with you.
Just When
Just when we think we know someone, the stranger returns to remind us just how wrong we are.
Summer
It was like you held a tiny glowing sun in the palm of your hand. Your delicate fingers—rays of golden light. Each gentle touch—a warm breeze caressing my skin.
Reminding me of every summer I had ever known.
Change
When change comes it is often gradual.
A city skyline rising up toward the clouds as the centuries pass.
How trees in a park welcome the seasons with calendar leaves.
The first strand of gray hair discovered in the mirror.
And then there are the exceptions to the rule. Those moments when change happens in an instant. Catching you completely unaware—a bolt from the blue.
Like when you’re at the beach. Standing knee deep in the water. Eyes staring back at the shore and a rogue wave suddenly hits you from behind. Knocking you off your feet. Throwing you under the swirling water.
Everything you knew, the stability you took for granted—all swept away in a blink of an eye.
“I’m leaving you.”
At first I struggled to come to terms with those three devastating words.
My heart breaking in an instant. The shock wave resonating throughout my heaving chest—the tears streaming down my cheeks.
Followed by the body-numbing emptiness.
My nights spent hiding away from the world with our song playing on repeat on an iPod. My mind slowly tearing itself apart. Searching for a reason. Trying to find an explanation that made some sense of it all. Lost in a maze with no exit in sight.
As the weeks passed, the crippling pain began to fade and the inevitable acceptance finally arrived in a neatly wrapped, emotional package. Containing a sprinkling of anger and a generous spoonful of steely resolve.
It was like my eyes were finally open and I could see the relationship for what it was. A daily climb up a steep staircase carrying a piano. You holding one side with your fingertips, barking orders, while I was left to do all the heavy lifting.
“Well, fuck you!”
When change comes it is often for the best.
A forest rising up from the cinders of a bushfire.
How the sun greets the sky after a storm.
The first step taken when you’re ready to move on.
The Silence
On a good day
I could hear a pin drop,
the distant humming
of a bumblebee,
a soapy bubble
popping in a bath.
But somehow,
I didn’t hear
the deafening roar
of my heart breaking.
Just the silence
when you were gone.
Sweet Nothings
It’s not that I don’t enjoy our little conversations. I love them. It’s just that sometimes I wish you would say nothing and just fuck me.
Just One More Day
Just one more day,
you said to me,
as your dawn
was gently breaking,
I replied,
with a heavy sigh,
it is an eternity
to be waiting.
If only time
could be divided,
the passing hours
thrown away,
if only I could
send you a sunset,
the dying seconds
of a day.
When I First Saw You
When I first saw you, it was like a star had fallen to the Earth and landed in a field of white roses lit by a full moon.
Bliss
I love how you become aroused. How the words slip from your lips just that little bit quicker. How the pupils in those calm blue eyes dilate when I pull down your panties.
Your eyes closing as you feel the warmth of my breath, the soft touch of my mouth, pressed up against your swollen clitoris.
Liquid honey running down my chin.
Firm hands pushing your willing thighs apart. The intensity of the pleasure making you grind your wet pussy against my face.
The wave building, breaking without warning, sweeping you away in the moment.
The orgasm exploding.
Once.
Twice.
Your body forced upright, fists clenched, as the third hits you hard between your twitching legs.
My head rising up, resting on the side of your flushed neck—lips kissing you.
Our arms holding each other tight.
Not letting go.
The rhythm of two hearts beating as one.
Bliss.
Alone Again
There are those
who walk,
the lucky ones run,
and then there’s us—
the unfortunate few,
who stumble
at the first hurdle,
always left behind
in this wretched race—
others call love.
Five Seconds
I wanted you so badly. If happiness could be broken down into units of time, it would be those magical five seconds when you said you felt the same way about me.
Burnt Letters
Perhaps it’s the vodka talking, but as I hold your latest letter in my hands, I feel compelled to tell you about the conflicting emotions that have been raging through my heart. It is not something I want to do, but I cannot think of any other way of finding some sense of resolution. To quote that tired cliché, I truly find myself between a rock and a hard place.
Before I continue, please bear with me, my love, while I pour another glass and summon the last drop of courage before it drains from me completely. I never thought it would take this much strength to push a pen between the blue lines of a blank piece of paper.
I wish I could explain exactly how your words touch me. Ho
w they make my whole body ache for you. (Tonight is no exception.) And the more I read what you wrote to me, the stronger the desire to hold you in my arms becomes. My impossible dream.
What was once an explosion of raw sexual tension played out in sentences, has now become an unbearable state of insatiable frustration. I can see the rosy red apple hanging on the tree but it is always just out of reach. If only I could stop reading your letters.
But I can’t.
So with a match lit, I have decided to do what I should have done months ago. To burn every one of them.
It’s time to accept that we can never be. To put an end to this beautiful torture we so willingly inflict on each other. I hope you understand why I have to walk away now.
Like the ocean that stands between us, the reality of the different lives we live is a gap too wide for either of us to cross.
Please, I beg you, do not reply to this letter.
Let me take comfort in the glowing embers of our past.
Leave me alone with the memories of what never was.
My hands cupped, warmed by the dying flames of a love reduced to cinders.
Alchemy
You kissed me—and that’s when everything in my world changed forever. The alchemy of instant connection. Like when two Lego bricks click together.
Ignorance
Ignorance is cultivated by those who prefer to plant the seeds of doubt rather than have the courage to speak the inconvenient truth.
Sunshine Girl
You were the lover—
the sunshine girl
who took me
by the hand,
and showed me
where my heart
was hidden,
deep down
beneath a pool
of rainy tears,
your glowing smile—
breaking through
the heavy clouds,
chasing away
the last strands
of wispy sadness,
your warm kisses—
painting my sky
a brilliant blue.
The First Time We Met
We loved to spend our summer nights outside.