On my closed hopeless eyes you placed your lips and something in me broke open. And I burst from within, from all my prisons. From all my pseudo homes I heard myself crying.
I heard the the noises of television in the heavy air of my living room die out, I heard myself breathe. I heard the knocks on my door and found all my lost selves staring at me one second, embracing me the next.
They told me it could be the blue moon, it could be the cyclone that is running wild, it could be the end of earth predicted too many times, it could be flowers-that-no-one-loves blooming in our land, it could my restlessness and fear of being left behind, it could be you.
As you sink into the couch, forgetting the nail you painted seconds before, as you look around frantically for remote, as you leave the evidence of beautiful color on my skin, I realized, that I found in myself the honesty to say out aloud, to tell you, to accept that it is probably you.
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 truth is i have loved you more than what my heart could take.
for years the only moment i loved myself, felt proud of myself were the ones where i put my better judgement in the drain, were the ones where i clinged onto you even as you made me cry, were the ones where i suffocated and killed my brain with only your thoughts.
so as you put an end to all that we were and as i learn to hate you with honesty, somewhere in me, i know that this end is what i desperately needed. this was the peace that i would have never granted myself. thank you.
today’s sadness is brought upon by the increasing count of the words that i have forbidden myself to speak.
today’s sadness is brought upon by the particularly sad song that i have chosen to listen.
today’s sadness is partially due to the strangers with sweet eyes, partially due to my angels with weak hearts, and also the fact that i must love (and have loved) everything wrong without causing pain to anyone but myself.
i must write without baring myself. i must write to never let myself forget what i can’t speak.
do not write this, do not be mean, do not be ungrateful do not blame, no names, no dates, do not put anyone’s weakness on show
all such favors that i must do for the sake of my perpetrators and my protectors.
i must act like a better person, even when i am not in my fingers i am told to hold everyone’s shame and everyone’s guilt, and find my freedom in that.
today’s sadness is a breather, the rare moment i allow myself to see how messed up all this is, before i turn off the light only to stumble through life again.
Unlike your descriptions, the green doesn’t wait for the sun. It doesn’t know what waiting is, what the word ‘sun’ is, it doesn’t even know that you are the its spokesperson.
I am not coming at your throat dear, it’s just that I feel, as time passes that you see me more as that green than your woman.
You cut my sentences and give me used bottles of perfumes, of love that I must wear. The only thing you tell me about your day is how women dote on you and place you first in the list of men to seduce.
I remember I once said, “please don’t tell me, i don’t want to know” and you glared back, lectured me on openness and honesty and strength of love.
“i don’t want to know” I said it only once, because my I was afraid to say it ever again. And in my unreasonable fear, I understood that in this life of pretend, I had also begun to see you as another sun, even when you are not.
So, I am not coming at your throat dear. I am try to free myself from your hold, from your twisted idea of love, that is messing with my mind now. I am someone without you as well, and I don’t want to be convinced that I am not.
the ones we sign our valentine cards to, the ones we tie ourselves to for life wait for us to die (or some form of death) to become free. their heart is full of love – only not for us.
they tiptoe at night to bury their crimes and demand honesty only when it suits what they have in their mind.
so even when we ask, “why did you break me like this when I loved you so?”
they say, “there are no proofs in stories like these, where everyone claims to be wronged. there are no daggers, only words, which are conveniently easy to forget or edit if enough years pass. anyway no one remembers that well, one can always hear things wrong.”
so we go back to sleep, get fine with living blind. tell our self it is fine as long as we are together, when “together” is not what we want.
The essays I have written on the wretchedness of this world, they are merely an argument, a poor argument, the only argument I can give when I am confronted by the wretchedness of my own soul, the blood on my own hands, the weight of shame on my conscience, and my inability to change.
I have never been someone lovable.
I am far away from territories
of innocence and honesty.
They are not me.
I can try to be
a girl with halo and sweet smile.
But know this, that too
is a scheme and an act.
Don’t ask me for things
I can’t give you.
Don’t ask me for the love you dreamed of.
Don’t ask me for love that I don’t have.
Do not call me and remind me
of what all I am neglecting,
when you cannot see
the loneliness I am suffering