The fullness of your soul
reminds me of the emptiness of mine.
And of countless others
who have not yet realized
the word for what they feel,
who have been carefully dodging
their own reflections
by looking into the the right mirrors.
And you might not have known
what this plight feels like,
but I guess I am also choosing
a convenient lens to look at you,
while I am making list of people
who have misunderstood me.
The days that starts with
a painful realization of the world.
The nights that stops with
this awareness put to sleep.
whom I can’t shake off from my thoughts.
All such things that happen just because they do
and not because I am any better or any worse
than anyone else.
All such things that I must accept
with gratitude and courage.
All such things and more
that falls on us
sometimes like snow,
sometimes life flowers,
sometimes like rain
and sometimes like love.
My pictures are not about me
they are just replacable frames
filled with the skin I have shed
filled with people who have left
and with my smile that has changed
So I can’t help but look at them
and picture the happy life
this person must have had
when I know it is otherwise.
I have lost track of my memories
I have lost track of the reasons
for why I lived my life like that.
I have a fading list of afflictions
and its pain that I have learned
to live with or ignore.
As I age, I find
I can almost forget,
I can leave behind
whoever I was out of frame.
When my own opinions can’t budge the doors
that are closed on my face,
I run back to these books
which list how to think, what to want.
I do not look for how it is done
I look for what I did wrong.
But my mind is so immune to a good advise
that the words that I read make me sick
even when they could be my medicine.
But I don’t yet know if they are,
cause my wish for a better life fades away
in front of the genuineness my heart demands from me.
Even in the shade of the stories
I was not afraid
of being crushed
under the weight of the words
that could fall anytime.
For I know we live in a world
where even in accidents
we cannot be united with what we want
may it be life, death or love.
Since when one has started dreaming, there were so many cries for help and so many bottles thrown into the sea, that it is amazing we still can see the sea when we should see only bottles.
I am not walking over
I am walking into the space you used
to occupy in this world.
I am walking into your absence.
I am taking your place.
I am taking your voice.
I am taking in the laughter
that escaped your lips
and never found their way back.
I am walking towards the fate
that took you from me, from this world.
But I do not seem to reach the place
where you are.
I have become one with the doorbell that never rings,
with the appointments on calendar
you will never be able to keep.
I can’t curse you for leaving me.
Some journeys are made without choice
and some distances are granted for our own peace.
The place you made for me in this life
is the only thing that feels right without you.
Only thing I can do
is to stop waiting,
and live your life
in your place.
There was no breath left to let out
as I throw myself down the stairs.
And every step that I tumble down,
I feel breaking bones.
Muscles and knuckles
losing another bubble of a happy memory
that I once thought would be enough to keep me alive.
My broken thoughts rush into my blood
into my empty lungs,
almost convinced that this the last
they will see of me.
And I never tire out.
I never feel sore enough or pained enough
to stop myself from doing this to me.
But while I took you for another wall
that existed to break me,
another voice to help me fill up
pages of essays of self-hatred
and regrets that do not forget me.
You became the arms that hold me, lift me
And carry my burden of life along with me.
And for first time
I want to live better.
And I want you in that better life with me.
I remember the conversations
that I had with you
even before we met.
How you always gave me answers
that I wanted to hear.
You always told me the words
that could help me sleep better.
And though you are not
the gentle soul I dreamed of.
But even I am not the pitiful girl
that I thought I was.
And all you are
is so much better
than all you could be.
And I realize at the core of your words, that
pierce and break my delusions,
is the reality-
that I was never comfortable with
until you stood by my side
to face it with me.
that your dream had to be about me.
That you placed all the pieces left of you
in that dream
and placed it in my care.
If only you had seen the cracked edges of mine
that were going to become your future.
If only I had known my incapability
to love or be loved.
I would not have to see your tears.
I would not have to ache this bad.
Why have you become the book I pick up every now and then,
but never have the courage to finish nor to give up.