You walk in with a cake of rust,
two hours late.
You kiss me ,
wait for me to smile,
to say thanks,
to make another offering of myself
at your shrine.
You tell me of love,
the only love that you cannot
get out of your heart.
This love that suffocates you these days
more than before.
How my face asks for too much,
even when my voice doesn’t.
I cross out and mess up the frosting
trying to hide the wrong name.
These days I don’t correct you,
or remind you of who I am,
and so you forget me just as I thought you would,
just as you promised you wouldn’t.
My half hidden sighs
tell me that I am just an appointment,
things that have to be done,
feel good pill of a the mean god
that you are.
The clearer I see this
the more I want to speak against you,
to hold you closer with my rage.
I want to speak of
all the facts I have on you-
the bitter candies from the assembly line
that my minds works overtime overnight,
to show you the moments
you hated yourself most
again and again and again.
I am weak like that.
I am mean like that.
And now I don’t want to be better.
I wasn’t like this always
but now this all I can be.
I don’t remember or expect a beautiful love,
now neither should you.
I hate to admit this to myself
but I can’t quite understand you.
At worst, I judge your unreasonable feelings
and your self-indulgence.
Often I step away and try hard to feel your pain
and yet it escapes me.
Whatever I imagine is the landscape of your heart is,
it is never quite correct.
Something really important,
probably a loss that I have never faced,
is missing from my understanding.
“this is not how i should be”-
I end up thinking this every time when I think of you.
When you say “you won’t understand”,
I once again realize how insufficient I am.
Because you are right.
Because I can’t understand.
I wonder if one day I can do something more than just loving you.
I wonder if one day I can see you as you want to be seen.
*i do not like saying last night
because once i only used to speak of it as ‘yesterday night’
until someone told me that it’s wrong, even if it means the same
so last night
i thought how it is something you’d say
“it means the same, but you are wrong”
(based on reality, read too much into lines,
sounds more neutral that it was, maybe not much of reality then)
my heart feels so empty
can’t you love me bit more
while i try to fix myself
i promise you
one day you won’t have to try
but i need you today
i need you to try a bit for me
can you wait a bit for me
you will remain empty till you hold onto yourself only
contrary to your belief
you cannot fill yourself with you
you can only be full of yourself
which might be the case that you fall under
thought i am not professionally trained
to point out the wrong
in people’s heart
but there is so much wrong with you
that i can’t swallow the judgement i have passed on you
i cannot help you grow up
i have a life, i have a dream
i have a need for someone
who can be there for me
without asking such things from me…
and so went our conversation
and obviously you were right
you were right to such an extent
that i would be just making a fool of myself
if i tried to negate the facts
so being the emotional being that i am
i hated you
for being correct, for being so cruel,
for speaking coldly about me,
for letting me know more about-
victim mentality, and emotional manipulation.
and if i cried now, you’d be proving your point.
if i complained, you’d be writing it down as a case study
to support your claims.
and because of my stupid unrealistic love
and my distorted sense of reality
i sat there in front of you
saying “i am sorry”.
you are right
i need to get rid of what i am
to get anywhere in life,
to get over you.
the sun is so much brighter than it used to be
it makes me wonder if i remembers my days correctly.
has it always been like this,
when did my eyes start creating its own darkness.
(is there a word for it?
like there is a word for plants creating food from the drops of sun)
were you always this beautiful?
were you always looking at me with those kind eyes?
my broken mind only remembers cruel gazes.
why did it never take your image in?
how is it so easy to not see?
why is it so easy to believe the worst?
what if i walk over to you, try to smile with you
and call what i feel love
how long will my new vision stay with me?
do you know how to love a blind bitter person?
i am asking since i am always not like this
i asking because i want to meet you again on a dark cloudy day
i want you to know of my blindness
before you love me back.
Yesterday I sat myself through a video of jokes
then another and then another,
till I found nothing funny,
till I had to stop
because I was almost at the verge
of taking things too seriously,
at the risk of being offended
on behalf of someone else.
And no, being offended is not cool anymore.
I don’t want to be disliked
even a bit more that I already am
or of proving their list of stereotype correct.
So now I must find something else to waste my time on,
that doesn’t hit me so hard, that doesn’t make my headache.
That doesn’t force me to to be a better person
to people who expect the world to tolerate them
while they mock the misery and blame the victims.
But I guess it is just a matter of time
before my feelings fade forever
before a bit more numbness sets in my heart
before I see myself laugh at all that is wrong.
If only yearning
was the correct word
for what I feel for you now.
There is a voice in me
that has taken over my throat
and it speaks what I never wanted to say.
It admits all weakness that you never knew I had.
What is the use of confessing
what no one even suspected?
I ask myself that
even as I continue to speak,
even if you are not here to listen.
Maybe your absence
has given me the courage
to do the right thing.
Now that you are gone,
now that you have changed
I have no reason to hide where I hid.
There is no love keeping me away from
the life that I always wanted,
that I could always have.
But the reason
of this freedom
also leaves me paralyzed.
Though there are many failures in my life
that I made you reason for,
now when I can do better without you, I see myself giving up.
How unfair it is to you, if I give up now.
How unfair it is to me, if I cant even taste the only fruits
whose sweetness you have not taken away.
Love was not that hard
and I do not want to add another line
to the poems and essays who blame love for everything.
That would be another lie, another failure for me,
if even when I am losing I seek someone
who is ready to sink with me.
I tell myself that I have nothing worth saying and that no one wants to listen.
I know this because I have tried to speak my mind
and in best cases I have been told that my mind is not that right,
that the experience that I speak from doesn’t exist for them,
so they will unanimously refuse to acknowledge my narrative.
Or they will smile at me and look down at me.
But I am not their adorable kid who had got her alphabets mixed up.
I am a person equal to them,
and my level of ignorance is equal to them
even if it is not about same things.
I am a person equal to them.
I am a person equal to them
I am a person equal to them…
I have to keep repeating it
or else I might just forget.
Maybe I have already started to forget
because these days I speak in small sentences, waiting for affirmative nods.
I find myself reading everything that they will approve of.
I find myself voicing what they want to hear.
I see myself calling myself stupid before they call me one.
I see myself nod understandingly at everything I disagree with.
I hear the arguments inside me against the favorite opinions of everyone
and they stay inside me,
and everyone is happy.
“You are too young to know better, to know reality.
You are too girlish to see the world for what it is.
You are too sentimental to speak logically.”
I know the wall of judgement I will run into
if I let myself speak.
So you may actually want to listen
and you might not be like others.
But I can’t bring myself to speak about what matters to me.
Cause either I will be wounded at my weakest spot
or I will end up hating you just for being like everyone else
when you ridicule me, interrupt me to correct me
and try to tell me what I should be feeling instead.
I won’t give you a chance
because I can’t take chances with our friendship.
I won’t speak up
because I don’t want to feel more inferior than I already do.
I do not want to continue this-
to harbor, carry around,
give voice to feelings of sympathy
that can never be more than words.
After I have said all the right things
and you have given the correct response,
we feel we have done everything we can
that a good person must do to save the world,
when we are just protecting the leftover
humanity we have in ourselves,
to wear it like a badge
in conversations that can bring no change.
our indulgent families, our fun-loving friends,
our irritating neighbours-
have never stepped out of our own lives
never given up on our comforts
unless it is for accumulating some good karma.
We should not be allowed to feel so generous
for saying so much and doing so little.