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.
Every smile I have ever faked
leaves a residue
of questions on my lips.
“Why is it,
that this smile can’t be real?
Why is it,
that the world is so easily convinced by my lie?
Why don’t they try to break
this facade when they see it
in which I am trapped?”
In an unguarded moment
I saw what it is, to not see myself.
The fogged up mirror
didn’t let my reflection reach me.
And what reached me was
just a picture colored out of lines.
The more I looked at my obscured face,
the more I was convinced
that the faces was not mine.
The more I was convinced of the face being a stranger’s,
more easier it was for me to love and accept it.
If I could see myself as someone else
how easier it would be to live my life.
Not knowing what I know about myself,
not knowing what I think.
To be what I am and what I am not at the same time.
How easier it would be , if this is
what I saw in mirror everyday.
How beautiful can be not knowing, not seeing.
Only smudged shades of colors.
A face not mine.