The memories I burnt away
have turned into spirits, into thoughts
that hold me back from naming and keeping this happiness
that sits at my doorstep, waiting for my love.
And though the shadows of my past are tied to my legs,
though they rattle on empty roads
and never let the the dust of my life settle.
But ‘it is not so bad’ is also a sentence
that I have learnt to say with ease
and I sometimes even mean those words as they leave my mouth.
For there is a doorstep where a heart like yours
waits for me to heal, your wait makes the plant of trust
grow in my heart again.
Every morning I find myself, my lips
a bit closer to the the words
that only you deserve to hear.
Tag Archives: lip
The memories I burnt away
you always gift me red sonnets.
and i always kiss you back,
the color of my lips fading
in front of acts of affection.
i put them on my bed
as i sleep on the floor.
i stir my soaking noodles
with a branch broken
from this bunch.
i bite the sides of my mouth
make myself cry a little bit more.
as i walk among all that should be ruins, i feel humbled. i feel stupid to think that these small sorrows of mine are something that could end this world.
i find another overused word on my lips again – promises. they remind me of promises. they remind of having something more important than ones own life. what does it even feel like to have something like that? do i even want to know?
i wonder who dreamed of a place like this, where all the birds seem to be running away from same things as me.
here, maybe here, i could forget all that i shouldn’t forget. here, maybe here is where my endless toil, my yearning meant to take me. this is good place to end, to kill my love for this world, to kill the hate i have for myself.
I could no longer taste
the nameless fruit
that I held in my hand,
that I hid in my mouth a moment ago.
I fled from one home to another.
I sewed my heart to another
even when it pained.
I tried to find myself back,
pry out my heart from the cage of love
even when I was happy.
I wanted to miss someone.
I wanted to call out a name,
so that my life may not feel empty.
Since I had many names on my lips,
I came to know that the emptiness of my life
came not from the lack of people I loved
but by the lack of people who treasured me back.
So I let the fruit fall to ground.
I let my hunger gnaw at the my own skin.
I forced myself to think of myself,
by hurting myself,
by asking myself to forget.
From my grip I lose
yet another word-
now alien to my lips and life.
From the corner of my eyes,
I watch it die the same death as me.
Now the stories I told myself have become
a little more unreasonable,
when the words and ideas that
I took as absolute
turned out to be just shape-shifting feelings,
the echoes of my lives I could have had.
Is it possible for a voice to be a mirage?
Can it sound more real
than the world trying to get rid of it
Could it be that my hands,
my eyes were always empty?
Or were they just filled with wanting,
a wanting only for things that cannot be obtained,
that cannot be denied,
for they do not exist?
All that led me in life-
Sometimes towards you,
My pride, my greed.
My sense of right
and my lust for wrong.
All have left me alone in life,
as you breathe your last.
Struggling to be free from me.
Your eyes found me hiding
in the truths I created everyday,
so my lies didn’t become apparent to myself.
Maybe because of that you have been tied to me
by what I now know as love.
of deserving love,
no longer haunts my mind.
I wish I could go back to the world
where you breathe,
where you smile,
where you lips, your love, your tears
do not know my name.
For I know,
even if I could do it all over again,
it would all be the same.