Winter of Summers Read online

  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.