DRAWING THE STARS WRONG
all my hopes, now in your hands,
feel like signs of trouble.
i liked it on paper, the broken star in red ink,
but not on my sky.
can i undo my steps to you?
will my heart break even if you leave my skin?
STRIPPING YOU OF FLESH
before i turn away from you
there are things that must be done.
(only painful things are remaining
no matter what i choose)
everyday for a hour i must imagine
being alone in this world.
everyday i must imagine
the relief you would feel
at my absence.
everyday i must imagine you with someone
and being capable of caring.
i must imagine in detail and color.
i must put you on a window in clothes
i don’t recognize.
i must strip you of my love
and hope you feel the warmth,
even when my heart tells that you won’t.
i must stand outside the shop i plan to leave you at
and practice standing there without tears in my eyes.
i must take your feelings out of picture
to take even one step away from you.
before i turn away from you
i have to turn into the person
who won’t be able to walk towards any happiness
after leaving you broken.
MESSED UP SEARCH HISTORY
in my room, on my phone,
with another love, in the crowd
that will never be mine,
i feel my heart drunk on you again.
and everywhere you are with me
i need someone else
to keep me from making another mess
in your name, for my sake.
in return, i love them the only way i can,
the way only i can,
by removing you from the search history of my mind
every second i live.
i love them
by holding them back from running to the one,
who like you, can only love in dark dripping red
and swelling universe of purple.
THE EASY WAY TO LIVE
speaking without fear,
loving without abandon,
sitting in sunshine,
somehow loving the world,
wanting to stay alive,
getting comfortable with the concept of wanting,
knowing the feeling of being considered and seen,
with you at the back of my mind).
i told you, all this is my life now-
the easiest life i have ever had.
i hope you believe.
it would be the happiest end,
if you would accept this
as the last scene of me in your life.
i want to live so better,
just so that you can forget
the me who could do nothing but get hurt
only because i didn’t want to live without love.
i want to be better than that, even if it makes me sad.
“I guess my life hasn’t always been happy, or easy, or exactly what I want. At a certain point, I just have to try not to think too much about certain things, or else they’ll break my heart.”
― Jonathan Franzen
This is a thought I can relate with but not know why. I am not entirely sure whether the interests that I have actually catch my attention, or I am trying to pile up more things to distract me from looking at things that might upset me. It is not that I try to avoid problems. I do face the problems in my life (most of them), take them up as challenge, try to find solution. But I do all this with an attitude of an onlooker. I do not engage myself emotionally in that, even if (especially when) it is about my own life. But one thing I know about myself is that I take everything personally, I am anxious about all small things, so sometimes even I am amazed at how coolly and with a disturbing nonchalance I handle the bigger issues of my life. I might be going through a really hard time, and would be enjoying everything as I normally do, I keep myself so busy with things (sometimes with ridiculously irrelevant things ) that I do not have to think about how I feel about all this. I do not want to see how I am affected by it, for I know every small thing affects me in ways no one would understand. But knowing that and facing that are two different things. I do not want to ask myself questions that I do not have answers to, whose answers even if I know will be more difficult for me to handle. I do confront my feelings and act them out, only when I am pushed to. That’s when I loose my cool. When I do loose my cool, when I get into why rather than what, I turn into this hysterical person that I don’t want to be.
And here is why this confuses me more, one of the reason that I write is so that I can see all these feelings without having to claim them as mine. I can write about feelings of a character and somewhere in his pain flows my pain, so much that they become inseparable. It is not about me, but it is still about me.
But I do not try to change myself, I believe the way I behave and deal with things are the best possible way to deal with this life of mine. Something that works for me, even if at times it is ridiculous.
And this is exactly what I think about myself:
“He couldn’t figure out if she was immensely well adjusted or seriously messed up.”
― Jonathan Franzen