Mitchell's Mustard Blog

May 15, 2014

To Whom it May Concern

Filed under: A Little Something — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 6:54 pm

To whom it may concern,

To gain, to love, to change, and to lose,
It’s what I do.

I crave your attention to cure my loneliness,
to fill the gaping hole that resides in my chest,
a decision made on impulse,
rather than a future to invest,
a hand to hold, but I don’t love you,
I shrug and confess.

I become tired of being grounded,
so I unwrap myself from your arms,
saying things that pierce your skin,
punch drunk from your angry palms,
selfish greed floats to the surface,
swallowing my good intentions and charms.

I will hurt you, its nothing personal,
to crave a love, It’s not intentional,
to gain, to love, to change, and to lose,
It’s what I do.

A restlessness that will always prevail,
love that mimics the weather,
I smiled, and nodded along,
but it was only you who said forever,
I hold my head high as I bleed from the inside,
when did together really mean together?

The grass will never be greener,
on the other side it’s just the same,
it starts with a similar breathtaking feeling,
but it just ends as a different face and name,
I’m sorry to cause confusion,
but I’m still glad you came.

I will hurt you, its nothing personal,
to crave a love, It’s not intentional,
to gain, to love, to change, and to lose,
It’s what I do.

I’m sorry, its nothing personal,
I did crave your love, but not any more
to gain, to love, to change, and to lose,
It’s what I do.

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February 4, 2014

Lies for Lust

Filed under: A Little Something — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 6:36 pm

The twinkling of lights set sparks at the back of his eyes, the restaurant was bright and of bad taste. He waited, alone, full of thought. The evening’s entertainment would arrive shortly, he always liked to be early, to get a drink, to make sure the coast was clear. In many eyes, what he was doing, waiting for, was a bad thing. If the people close to him knew about this part of his life, he shuddered to think of the outcome.
His surroundings became louder as more people piled into the building, it was a Monday night and the place was heaving. On an average Monday night he was sure it would be quieter, enough to hear the chef whistle. It was a week before Christmas, the cheers of Christmas parties surrounding him, drunk middle-aged women with multi coloured party hats from cheap crackers, the office idiot trying his chances with the new receptionist.
Was this a great idea to meet here? He thought to himself, wherever they met, he always panicked to think that someone knew his wife, had seen a picture of him on her desk at work. The more people in the room, the greater the odds he thought.
A crack of laughter pulled him out of thought, he glared at the women across the room, wondered if this was how his wife acted at a Christmas party. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve known someone, you never truly know them, he was walking proof. He had been married for twelve years, he loved his wife, the mother of his children, but she just didn’t quench his sexual thirst any more. She thought he was at a meeting, his usual weekly meeting. The ‘do not disturb’ part of his diary.
Since they had married the sex went downhill, his wife never moved from missionary position, hadn’t performed oral in years. It had become a task rather than a passion. Before children, before their marriage, she fucked like a Motley Crüe groupie, but that was years ago, things had changed. He used to speed home from work, cancel meetings, and rush deadlines, just to get back to her. He used to crave the feeling of her in his palms, the smell of her on his skin, her hair stroking his face as she rode above. The passion that once cocooned them, uncontrollable lust, he’d drop anything to pick her up, physically and mentally.
A sudden pang of sadness over took his thoughts, how their good times had fizzled out, they had lost their way, how they had changed. His mind often argued the case in whether over time they had grown apart, or if they were never meant to grow together in the first place.
He took another mouthful of his beer, staring at the office parties when he wasn’t glancing at his watch. This weekly secret made him feel young again, knowing he’d wake tomorrow full of thought about the next time. He had found a release for his lust, knowing that he’d never feel that way again about his wife. He sometimes wondered, if his wife knew, would she be happy for him because once again he had found the passion they once lost? He knew full well that the knowledge of his cheating would emotionally kill her, he loved her, he couldn’t put her through that, but he couldn’t stop.
“Hey” came a voice next to him
“Oh hey, I didn’t see you come in. Did you want to stay for a drink?” he replied
“Sorry I’m late, traffic’s awful. You look full of thought, you ok?”
“Just thinking of you” he replied smiling, waving to get the waitress over to their table.
He was excited, energy coursing through his body. Staring at his date, knowing he didn’t want to be anywhere else but here. He knew that the passion that lay dormant inside him had returned, he was happy, happy to be her with him.
“What drinks would you like, gentlemen?” said the waitress as she came to the table.

January 13, 2013

Scrap Yard

Filed under: Just a Thought — Tags: , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 7:20 pm

He paced through the scrap yard, once beautiful and blossoming but now dark and derelict.  The sun rays choked by the rising dust and fog of past laughter, Leaving foot prints in the damaged and discarded only to be blown away like that of their plans. As far as the eye can see the wreckage surrounded their peak summit, wiping the dust from his eyes he tried to forget the restricting ties around his tongue. Speechless, strong, yet still alone. Struggling to see ten feet in front yet his past is as clear as ever, turning around would mean giving up, surely? Without words he told himself that this is the right thing to do, she isn’t here to reassure. She isn’t here to see the wolves at his heels, the world he once knew picked apart by insecurities. Once a picture but now fallen from the frame, dizzy like a flame dancing in the breeze.  The burning urge to take the weight from his feet was overruled by pride, fear of being on his knees whilst his hands gripped the ash from the floor. He can see it, feel it, taste it but won’t bring himself to that level. Battered and bruised by the elements of his stubbornness, taking weight on his shoulder like an unnecessary punishment. He could talk and confide but loose lips sink ships, he was already sinking. The pain and anger was his spirit to push on, to rebuild the foundations and work up. The further he walked through the scrap yard the less his feet dragged, the ash and dust seemed to clear and he could feel the sun rays on his face. Day by day he told himself.                

October 19, 2012

Radiant Panic

Filed under: A Little Something — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 8:35 pm

She’s radiant.

‘What are your thoughts on *****?’ was the question.

The word radiant seemed to just pinch the correct amount of pleasant and attractive to give a small insight into my thoughts. The reason I can answer the question without a moment’s silence was because I know her, she was once the love of my life. I can’t help but think that’s why the question was directed at me in the first place but what I didn’t realise was that she had just walked in and joined the queue I was standing in for my morning coffee.

“Fuck” was the first word that slipped out of my mouth, my friend laughed as I received a few disapproving looks from my fellow early risers.

The reason for the blue outburst was that I had pictured this moment over and over in my mind, if I bumped into her, what would I say? The out worn rehearsals were just about to be tested. She clocked me and smiled; I blushed, smiled and didn’t quite know what to do with my hands. My skin started to prickle under the heat of embarrassment, she signalled to meet at an empty table once we’d picked up our coffee. I offered to get hers but she refused. She obviously hadn’t lost the independent trait that I loved and loathed about her.

“Fuck” I said it again, the looks came again but I didn’t give a shit this time. They can stare all they like because I was a man in need, a man in need of an escape. How do you tell a radiant, beautiful women who’s attached that you’ve never stopped thinking about her? She’s happy with another bloke, enjoying her life. How do you tell her that you’ve never managed to get over her and that if things were different you’d do anything to claw back what you had? The answers to those questions are that you can’t tell her shit.

“Excuse me sir, what can I get you?”

She had asked me three times already but my thoughts where elsewhere.

“Err, sorry. A black coffee in a takeout mug please.”

I could hear some people behind me quietly cheer as I snapped out of my day-dream and ordered, these morning coffee drinkers can be a rowdy fucking lot.

I picked my coffee up and paid; as I turned I caught her attention and pointed to a vacant table in the corner. She nodded in acceptance.

“Good luck” my friend said as he picked up his coffee, tapped me on the shoulder making his way to the door. I was now all alone.

Pulling the chair out from under the table made a high-pitched squeak, another reason why the morning coffee bandits wanted to see the back of me. They all stared at me like I had just finger banged their favourite Chiwawa, she laughed. She had a beautiful laugh. I sat toying with my cup of coffee, trying not to look at her in the queue. I didn’t want to look impatient, nervous or even excited. I just wanted to look like a guy waiting for a girl in a coffee shop. No pressure.

I could tell her how I feel; she could be feeling the same. Maybe she’s not happy and never has been since we parted ways. All my hopeful thoughts partnered up with negative energy. I could tell her how I feel with a result of her just staring at me while the whole coffee shop population laugh into their morning fix. Even worse, she could laugh at me. It was a beautiful laugh but it would hurt like hell.

I started to get hot and could feel my skin prickle again as she paid for her drink, most probably green tea. She turned and headed over to the table, I had to make a quick decision whether or not to tell her my thoughts. ‘Fuck it’ I thought if she’s drinking green tea I won’t tell her, if there’s anything else in her cup then I will. It was a subconscious way of getting out of this situation unscathed because I knew that green tea was all she drank this early in the morning.

“Green tea?” I asked as she silently pulled her chair out from under the table.

“What? Oh . . no its coffee.” she replied

‘Fuck’ I thought to myself, she looked at me like she may have heard it.

“You ok? It’s been a long time since I last saw you” she asked

“Yeah I’m good thanks, matter of fact I’m pleased we’ve bumped into each other because there was something I wanted to talk to you about” I could feel the heat rise from my neck upwards, she must be able to see that I was burning up.

“Oh right, and what would that be?” she asked with a raised eyebrow and a playful smile.

It was now or never, I could hear my own heartbeat as it beat like a ticking bomb. I picked, played and tapped my coffee mug; I lifted my eyes from the table to meet hers. ‘Fuck it’ I thought.

“I’ve wanted to talk to you about something, about how I feel” I stuttered

“About how you feel? Ok, what’s up?” she looked worried

Suddenly her phone started to ring, a high-pitched tune that broke the tension on the table.

“Yeah . . . Well I’ve . . .” I started.

“Sorry I’ve got to take this” she cut in once she’d looked at the screen.

I was just about to spill my heart out onto the table for her to catch or dodge and her phone decided to ring, there was someone sitting somewhere on the other end of that call I wanted to punch.

“Hello . . . . Oh hi . . . . yep . . . . yep . . . what . . right now?”

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair; I could feel all the people around me laughing.

“Ok . . . I’m on my way” she hung up.

“I’ve got to go, sorry. Can we carry on with this conversation later? You’ve got my number, right? She asked whilst standing up

“It was good to see you” I said with a smile.

She smiled and headed for the door, I watched as she glided across the room and out into the morning sun. I knew I didn’t have her number, I had deleted it when we first split up so I didn’t drunk dial her.

The panic had gone; she had gone but the population of the coffee shop were still there, a queue of regulars for their morning fix. I stood up and made my way to the door, the moment I moved someone stepped into my place at the table and took my seat, easily replaced.

‘Fuck’ is all I could think.

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