wave after wave of cold air, of sad premonitions reached us, tried to convince us that this was a really bad idea. that on a cold day like this there were easier ways to find warmth, ways that would take away no part of us.
and frankly i was afraid. i stopped maybe a million times on my tracks. i waited for someone to call me to remind me of something really urgent that needed my attention. i almost prayed for you to give up.
but you kept walking. you kept repeating that this would be fun. so even when your hands were shaking and even when your eyes were red, i chose not to notice it. i chose to believe that your heart is stronger, that you would get us there.
you were always better at pretending for my sake. you pretended to know all the answers while i shamelessly hid behind you when doubts barked at me on streets. so when we walk on the river that could melt any day, any moment i wanted you to lean on my heart for once.
my fearful weak heart was the only thing i could give. i knew my love would last only moments and yours would last an eternity. but selfishly i held onto you. so when i kissed you and you smiled, i want to say i felt sad and guilty, but i did not. i was just happy, probably the happiest on this planet to have touched this sun, this spring, this filler of all voids, to have become the reason you will break. i really am the worst.
i looked best dressed in incoherent words. everyone assumed that i am drunk on something. everyone assumed me to be an artist for that.
any word that left my mouth was just another way to pronounce self-doubt. the only way to stay and run away at the same time.
the way i speak, “you are beautiful” and “i hate you” sounds the same. the way i speak “i want to die” sounds same as “i love you”. my name sounds same as any other name.
what is the use of having this name that no one calls. so i sign the heart of my temporary admirer with “tear”, “snow”, “goodbye”, “sleep”…. with other sad beautiful words that cause less hurt than my name.
you and the me that i was, that you hated once, but not as much what i am right now
you and your rough sketch of me that looks like bits and pieces of your past lovers
you and your ticking clock, both waiting for me to change
you and you habit of making me wait, of walking out on me
you and your empty seat that you have already forgotten
you with your air of arrogance that i pretend not to see for the sake of loving you
you and your smile that sometimes (most of the times) have nothing to do with me
you and your calls out of blue, calling me love, calling me heartless, throwing me away and calling me back,
you and your words, your voice always asking for more
you and your insistence of loving in past and hating in present
you and your love that wants never to be associated with me
you and your cruelty of always forgetting (only) me, forgetting the hurt you cause
you asking me to love you back in spite of all, asking me to speak only in sweet words, never asking me how i made it through the pain you gave me last time, never wondering what do i want out of this love, that has no place for me
i close the window that must be closed a hope that must be dropped. the flame of love, the hand that holds me, scalds me, takes me to new places, makes me sit under a trees with another unusual bright fruits, asks me to cry like i did before, paints me, calls me beautiful, feeds me compliments, but just enough that my tears won’t dry. leaves me in lonely rooms of a rundown hotels with the promises of tomorrow, another town, another tear to paint. as he disappears at the end of the street, i close the window that must be closed, a hope that must be dropped.
so the saint i read about walked this land, looked at this river, looked at this sky, and stood where I stand.
in the cases of glass there are letters, there are feelings i cannot understand. they say he made this place with love here his everything ends, where his nothing began.
but the glass turned into mirrors his writing became face of mine. i was pricked by the bitterness that were not supposed to be in his words.
how can he say the things we say? how can his cruelty be pardoned for his principle? why can i not call him hero like i used to, like everyone still does? why his truth makes me shrink away from every other truth? why does his life disappoint me so much?
i came here seeking nothing but i left losing a lot and doubting a lot. on my way back i left the what he once gave me and finally picked up what i should have.
I could no longer taste the nameless fruit that I held in my hand, that I hid in my mouth a moment ago. I fled from one home to another. I sewed my heart to another even when it pained. I tried to find myself back, pry out my heart from the cage of love even when I was happy. I wanted to miss someone. I wanted to call out a name, so that my life may not feel empty. Since I had many names on my lips, I came to know that the emptiness of my life came not from the lack of people I loved but by the lack of people who treasured me back. So I let the fruit fall to ground. I let my hunger gnaw at the my own skin. I forced myself to think of myself, by hurting myself, by asking myself to forget.
I will spend some nights
listening to why I am not the one you can love.
I will keep you awake and keep myself in pain
till I get this list down,
till I memorize it all,
till “who I am” just means “what you can’t love”.
I daydream about how I will leave you.
In this fiction
I know how to stop,
there I have given up on you,
there you are seek my acceptance for a change.
But I stop dreaming just before devising,
drawing a bright future without you,
without your rejection.
I stop because I have calls to answer,
mistakes to regret, trips to plan,
friends to cut off, paint my room black,…
I stop because there is so much suffering
I have to live through
before I am allowed to forget you.