I roll down my window
hoping for the first time
that I knew how to drive
so that I wouldn’t have a confused witness
to my impulse of moving forward by a mile
and falling down by a heartbeat.
“Is everything alright?”,
he asks me too often.
I don’t bother to calm him down by saying ‘yes’
as I was doing an hour ago.
Nothing I say can now convince him of my normality.
So I let him drive and let myself collapse.
I bury my face in my lap
and breathe better by suffocating myself a little bit more.
He hums a song that reminds me of the love
that now lives in a country I have not seen
in a life that I will always guess inaccurately
with a girl who has a serious case of klemptomania.
Last time I called the stolen one,
I was given a sorry and an address of a better therapist.
I let my ring burn my heart.
I ask the driver to leave me somewhere no one can find me
knowing he will not, he will take me home
just like he doesn’t everyday,
and he will make sure to greet me
with a kind forgetfulness the next morning.
I wish I had kept more strangers like him in my life,
someone who would worry about me.
After a long time, I feel like walking
towards the calm unknown.
The wildness in me that I had thrown away,
is waiting for me.
They were always waiting
to tell me all the gossips of stars and fishes,
how lost and alone they both felt
to know that blue they had in common
were totally different worlds.
The clothes that made me look somewhat beautiful
I fold them with care,
leave it somewhere you won’t miss.
Their newness would be the new metaphor for sadness,
sadness – yours and mine.
There must be a magic to undo this curse of our feelings.
There must be an answer, a life
that doesn’t necessarily need us to be together.
I will ask the cruel fairies that live in dying breaths
to make you forget me at sunrise,
to make me feel something for you again,
as my life with you ends.
Are we just each others excuse,
just a means to tie up this mind
to a worry and to a calmness made of flesh.
To end our tiring travel
between the states of “living-with-wavering-doubt-of-whether-to-exist-or-not”
What happens when we are no longer a good enough anchor for each other?
What happens when we no longer want to be moored
to the reasons of this world?
The steps I walk
and the fate I follow
all run into faces that somehow
already know all the reason to despise me.
Why is it that walking in these shadows
calms my heart and brings it pain
at the same time.
Is this how life is to be lived?
I myself this all the time.
For if not for my own voice,
there won’t be any answers returning to me
from this world that seems more far away
when I look for answers,
than when I look for places hide.
But I look at the moon today with a new eyes.
I find I am no longer alone,
when you look back everytime you leave.
I find I am no longer alone,
when left to myself, I have someone else to think of.
I no longer need assurances and promises
from this life, if only you walk this earth
with a smile and a lighter heart.
The cold returns to my heart again,
freezing your memories forever in me,
and I smile.
I am no longer alone,
nor are you.
Leafing through the pages of my picture book of dreams,
he smiled to himself and said to me-
I can make all of them come true for sure,
you can fill more pages, you can dream more.
The mirror with my face
lost in the light,
lost in thought of love soon to arrive,
while I wait not knowing how to calm myself down.
Where I hold a hand that touches me
like a rare cloud he found on ground.
The roads all lighted,
the words all sweet.
Our heartfelt smiles
at the end of the reel.
Going through my picture book of dreams
I smile at him, for not knowing better.
Not knowing that all I want
are for these dreams to die on these pages.
Cause I see the drop of tear that
glistens in the mirror
when my love threatens to leave,
forces me again to change
asks me why I can’t get rid of this mess,
why can’t I be calm again.
Me, wondering how to act
like a gentle cloud that I am not
not wanting to be genuine,
when I get love only when I am not me.
The road all lighted
The words all sweet.
The world going silent
under my scream.
You once sat on my shore.
You fell in love with the water
in which ships, treasures and lives were lost.
The same ocean is taking you in today.
You told me, the drops of sea reamining on your hands
yearn to touch my eyes again.
why wasn’t I taken away?
Why am I on the other side of glass
of this body that won’t sink.
Why does it have to be me?
Me, who so loved the boy who played at my shore.
Why did you come this far
only to die by my hands?
Why did you seek the one you cannot have?
Why couldn’t you stay on land
and look at me
and believe the lie of calmness?
Believe that I am most beautiful blue ever.
Let us not delve into the question
of what went wrong.
I have loved heartache
even as I was trying to run away from it.
I have missed the mess my life was
when I was granted the calm
that I begged for.
Everything I wanted
could never soothe my wounds.
Everything I have loved
was never good for me.
I guess somewhere in my life
I grew numb to kindness and care.
Somewhere in my life
I started mistaking pain for love.
All things were meant to go wrong from there.
I saw you
soft as the clouds of heaven.
I felt you
covered in the condensed drops
of love that the whole world breathes out.
And I hated you for it.
I saw your skin marked with me.
I saw the cracks in your smile
covered in my kisses.
I saw my reflection in your heart
that was made for my thirst.
I saw my heart.
I saw what hid there.
I saw the storm that never calms.
I saw the poison that has no color.
I saw your eyes become the clouds,
I saw it rain.
I saw you tremble as earthquake
that tries to contain itself.
I saw you make your home
in my storm.
And I hated you for that.
There is a fierce calmness
that holds me together
even when I think
that I will fall apart.
Seems like falling apart
is not that easy
for those who lived in pieces
that they never knew they had.
So I will turn deaf
to the words of love
that presumes that it knows me.
So I will kill time
with preaching words of self-love
that I struggle with everyday.
I will fill myself with the stars above
And I will learn to live
and learn to die.
And wait with dread
for the day I’ll feel complete.
I don’t want to be complete.
I know how to be broken.
Being broken is what I do best.
The amount of persuasion it takes
to force oneself,
into believing the delusion
that belonging somewhere
will solve all issues,
will calm the turmoil
of all unexplained emotions.
That we can belong somewhere
just because we want to.