Life As A Writer

Michael Daaboul. 26 y/o from Australia/Melbourne. Digital Designer & Creative Writer.

Sing for me, if you have to leave, let me hear your haunting melody one more time so I can cry a thousand times over your sweet voice. Sing for me, if you have to leave, sing for me so I can hear you in my dreams.
Michael Daaboul

left open, while the wind passes

She didn’t arrive, but was defined
By having graced my heart.
If I had to rely on myself to love her,
How could I feel in solitude?

This love left open, while the wind passes
Through the centre of my hardened hopes.
Perhaps you’re there, perhaps, you’re not
And I had wept, at the thought.

It’s because I’d rather you and only you between
The left and right chambers of my heart.
I would have kept you warm, in this storm
If you had not left me inside, broken, in this
Abandoned, oceanic abyss.

becoming two separate worlds

This is the scene. I will set it for you.

I sat there in silence and I knew what was right. I listened through the cracks while the cold air was seeping. It was you and I, loving each other through silence.

Through the earlier years, imperfection was laughable and being side by side, the noise was inaudible.

Mumbling deserted dreams and becoming two separate worlds.

Stop reading for a minute, please. Think. About. What. I. Just. Wrote.

I wrote, “Becoming two separate worlds.”

Do you understand what this means? That’s huge in the context of this written piece. We became TWO SEPARATE WORLDS. We had been on one, and through time, ANOTHER WORLD DEVELOPED and we drifted further and further apart. All this, and somehow, we never saw it coming. Another world brewing right under our nose with you on it and our hearts split in two different directions. Different paths of uncertainty and harsh storms. I, didn’t even get to say goodbye, and just like that, our one path together, abruptly turned into two separate directions without a whisper, without a single care for my beating heart. Staring quietly as your roots violently detached from my planet and roars of gashing winds on yours scream into my atmosphere as if I was a passing comet. Like I was nothing.

You can continue reading…

The last dance erased any hope of us, no ideas, our plans deleted and left with no ambition.

I spoke through the salty air, in this humid night, I stayed through to the morning light. As much yearning and as much pulling my heart roared its sweet madness, the leash attached was merely pulling me along through the harshness.

It took one to love perfectly, and one to watch closely.

One was listening to the heartbeat while the other one was caught wandering the street.

For you sir had to keep one ambition, one hope of a passing dream, will you give your yearning a place to rest? For if you had let your heart run wild with feeling, and I know it had, you’re sure be the fool to be left bleeding. No matter what you have learned or have been a noble man, one was caught passing you out through the night while you were sleeping, and just like the wind, your bearing had meant nothing.

And as our world’s first collided on a sweet summer’s day, and so too, our worlds detached on the wake of Christmas day.

In the end I was told to let go, for all the love I had and the words I poured on the beach’s sands, that the waves would reach the shore and swallow all that remained.

Have you heard them say that the dead don’t feel?
It’s not true
I don’t have any senses and I still feel
It tears me apart …
I will never forget
The hurt you gave with no regret.
Excerpt from Crimson Deeds By Charles Daaboul
Have you heard them say that the dead don’t bleed?
It’s not true
I don’t have a heartbeat and I still bleed
I’m empty inside …
I linger and yearn
For happiness to return.
Excerpt from Crimson Deeds By Charles Daaboul

Then you closed your eyes, sleeping in your bed tonight, crying and thinking about how it should have been.

You meet me in your dream with a smile from the memories telling you that you still miss me.

Excerpt from The Choice You Made By Michael Daaboul
The wind whispers often here, not pleasant, but soothing for me. The silence finds refuge inside and it’s hard to accept it. During the darkest part of the night, the wind screams and howls, I can almost understand it, as if, we both are looking for some sort of comfort, some … company.
Excerpt from Notes From the Traveller’s Christmas Journal (The Finale) By Michael Daaboul

gasping for air

Mind: What happened?
Leaking Thoughts: I don't know. I was thinking about this the other day, when I met the parents. The look on her face before leaving the car, that excitement was captivating, that feeling of being wanted. From time to time you wonder who you're going to end up with and you think and think about someone you can't picture and wonder who it might be. Here I am looking at her with someone I couldn't have imagined.
Leaking Thoughts: Thinking about it now, I focus on her face and it seems like she is looking at me forever, that wasn't the case when you're in the moment. I look at her for a few seconds, back and forth looking outside and being anxious in this particular situation.
Leaking Thoughts: So, in that moment, I have captured her feeling and I kind of made it last in me.
Mind: How long ago was this?
Leaking Thoughts: It was years ago.
Mind: What are you doing? It's not healthy to think about this stuff.
Leaking Thoughts: It feels different remembering. I can close my eyes and think back and I feel as if I have time travelled. I feel immersed, like I have been falling for her for a long time and gasping for air. Then I realise it's not real.
Mind: What made you realise?
Leaking Thoughts: When I knew I was falling on my own.
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