This moment of you wrapping your heart, your warm sound around my existence, around this body that will sooner or later yearn for you even when it lies buried in soil. This moment is all I want to be made up of. This heart of mine races and stops and tears itself down only for you and I would not have it any other way. This world where my shadow gets to rest with you is my only heaven, is my only home.
The lights die out one by one. The dark streets come alive, I crush the melting remains of abandoned snowballs under my feet, as you sidestep once again to let the flower stuck in concrete grow a bit more. I remember how you called such things ” kindness for my own sake”. It always makes me laugh when I look back at my own understanding smile, as if really knew what it actually meant.
Another cold gust of wind touches me and reaches you few second later and I recall why I never liked to walked behind you, why my heart couldn’t bear to see you any more, why the excuse of love wasn’t enough for me. It all comes back to me – all my pathetic emotions, as you fold a bit more into yourself, your shoulders almost disappearing.
Stopping in your tracks, you let out another sigh, and just when it seems you might give up and decide to break. You don’t. You keep on walking as if nothing can phase you out.
So I don’t follow you, cause your strength has always broken me more than your tears. Always when you let me have the right to complain and cry, I looked at you and begged you not to make me another one of those who can’t live without your sacrifices, who can only speak of your love in terms of the wounds you were ready to accept by their hands.
As I see you walk towards a home I won’t ever know, a part of me imagined – you turning back, looking at me with those kind eyes of yours, holding my hand. I am relieved when you didn’t. I am fine like this, with this manageable sadness that I feel when you leave me cold in the same world I abandoned you in.
Now that I have grown in height and I cannot forget my name even if I want to, no one comes looking for me when I go missing.
When I go missing, when I finally succeed in getting lost I buy a new plant, walk through strange streets, come back home with with my worn out heels and new pictures on phone, takeouts from restaurants whose name feels weird on my lips, knowing more roads that can take me home.
I sit defeated and happy as I realize getting lost means nothing if I can breathe just fine in this world, if everything here can be my home.
But still there is sadness in me for losing everything that only that small world could hold.
The last stranger at the funeral home brought in the worst rain of the season, the coldest wind of the night along with your last letter. He leaned against the window and called up everyone he won’t be able to meet today looking at me all the while. As if he knew every word that I was reading. Probably waiting to see whether I cry at the same lines that he did. His eyes look like the ones who have got used to crying for things that cannot be undone, for a life that cannot be. I wondered if he loved you. Maybe he did. Maybe you knew. I hope you did. He sat beside me trying not to grieve more than a mother, trying not mourn like a lover, making himself invisible with every word i read under my tearful breath
“…even when I sat at the dinner table with my brightest smile and deepest hunger, i couldn’t convince me that i needed to exist here. even the warmest embrace of this world could do nothing but break me. i knew opening my heart could only bring floods and all ends of all kind. i knew all along of this end. forgive me for pretending otherwise….”
There are universes spinning around us and they will see how we break down. They will not know our names just like we don’t know theirs. And when they come for us falling onto our beautiful blue home, falling into our storming seas and falling heights, we will still believe that this beauty will save us and in some ways it will. In some ways it won’t.
But for today the universe around us inspires us to love, fill our hearts again and again, it cradle us tonight, carries us from one unbearable moment to anohter through the tunnels of serene silence, through the river of light.
If this all is an apology for what is to come, just like the offerings of the sad heart before it broke me once, then maybe we don’t deserve this kindness, maybe we are given, gifted, cared for a bit too much in the name of the eventual end that is waiting for us far ahead.
On the broken lines of bold white, on the burning roads far away from home I knelt down in the heap of my skirt made of fairy dust and disappointments of all kinds.
I found a pretty crack with space enough to be something of its own and with a style that you’d agree with. With my fingertips already crying red I wrote you name in the best writing I could.
Your name that couldn’t fit beside mine, or the scorecards with better marks, or a business card that was not a part of scam, or with a number that could for once be reached, or the nameplate that you kept losing in the sleepy playgrounds of our eyes.
We missed you.
We missed you. in the conversations where we thought only of you and yet couldn’t speak of you. We thought of you always with an ache, always with a heart that wanted more of you while wanting to forget the little that we had.
I wrote your name and ran my fingers over them again. A kid knelt down beside me offering me a smile as he took in a pain he couldn’t understand. Today, of all days, I was not allowed to smile.
I walked away wondering if he knew you, if he now lives in your name, if he knows someone who wrote like me, who wrote words that will fit nowhere but here. Your name could be anybody else’s. You could have lived like everyone else and yet…
We once loved this world more than ourselves. Now we just like everything only as much as our own temperaments and thoughts permit.
The oranges reminds him of view from his broken home, the sour taste of everything that should have been beautiful.
The glowing beads fill my mind with the images of meaningless gifts, the faces of men and friends that always fall short even in the face if my plummeting expectations.
Going out of our way to hide is the measure of our love somehow. We sit across each other for every meal and talk about things that make sense, everything and anything that can’t cause more harm than the things close to our heart have already done.
I feel the rustle of a world buried deep in me, he must feel the same. But the world that is lost and the hope that is no longer mine can only do so little. There is a happiness that doesn’t look enchanting. There is a kindness that isn’t grand. There are things only we can be for each others even if there are thousand things we can’t.
I would have told him “I love you” if I didn’t know how hearing these words have only made him cry. He lets me love within the boundary of my temperament and thoughts, he stands by these walls and knows why they are for.
You told me of love and what it does to your heart and how your heart wants to see me and love me alone. But it is too hard. A harder task than you imagined it to be.
You loved me for my silence, for my grace of letting you go, and for the tears in my eyes always, only for you.
You stand outside my heart, filling my insides with your shadows, with your hopes. Becoming my only light. Asking me to step out of myself, asking me if I am up for another search of your heart- that you have left behind in someone else’s heart tonight.
You kiss my hand and tell me you like this better- me being your hope, your home rather than being your wretched love- the love that that leads you to your worst face.
I close my eyes and again I try to forget what I wanted you to be, what I hoped you would be for me. I try to forget the wretched love you have become.
the one thing i can’t be is honest. though there are many other adjectives that stare at me from their balconies at midnight as i walk and crawl through the dirt road, through the pool of lights, crying and shouting and breaking dreams in every home that i pass by. i hear them shaking their heads with disapproval and hopelessness. i look at their hazy shadows and try to hate them in equal measures but i don’t because they are so easy to forget. but this honesty, this honesty that people expect vexes me. this expectation makes me want to hide, run, run over their hearts all because it is so simple. all because the ones who ask me of this through their tears are not mere observers but are the ones struggling to stay close to me fighting the unnecessary sandstorm i create everyday. they are the ones who deserve honesty. they are the ones i don’t deserve. but my dishonesty is not only for this world. it is the only thing i can offer to myself as well. so again, i wake up in their arms with another lie ready on my lips. i hug them with with my true love and my false heart. i don’t try to make it right when they are in shambles again because there is no fancy way to put it, there is no beauty in what i do, there is no promise i would keep. there are only people who i leave. even when i can’t bear to miss one more person again.
the most beautiful bitter bits of this world belong to me now. a car rushes by far away and i wonder about the girl crying her eyes out on the table not far from mine, or the middle-aged man looking lost in front of his home in my window, or the woman who left her phone and purse on her table on purpose and turned back at the door to look at something i couldn’t see. i wonder if they feel the same as me, if i would ever feel anything brand new, if i would ever have a feeling not felt by anyone in this world. even when i know how ordinary my extra-ordinary pain is, why does it feel so deep, why do i struggle to walk on these crowded roads why can’t i wear my sadness, my tears on my eyes and let this world be the audience for once.