I want this sadness that dissolves in me,
that never goes away,
never stands apart from me,
never looks me in the face with questions
or even answers.
I am ready to take vow with this heartbreak
as long as it feels like you,
promises eventually to replace you,
as long as my love is greater than you.
I do nor have to miss you,
call you, beg you,
force myself to forgive you,
hate you silently,
or practice breaking with grace.
I do not have to do things
that have nothing to with love
as long my sadness is mine alone.
I can bear this and more
as long as I remember my genuine heart
and not you.
Tag Archives: mine
I want this sadness that dissolves in me,
I wanted to tell him
that I went back to the fountain
the one made of moon marble
in the neighborhood made of coal,
and I fished for his wishes,
the forgotten cold coins,
that once I believed I could find him
in the things he left behind
and I was wrong.
I could only see the lingering complains
and the eventual hate
in the fact that he left.
But the romantic in me
just couldn’t stop
till I did the impossible,
The romantic in me has no eyes, no ears
only a tongue to ask for more.
The work of running, begging, searching
for a lost coin was left to me.
So I picked a random coin and lied
that it was his,
just like I picked him in this world of millions
and I told myself he is mine.
I wanted to to tell him
that even I was tired of my “shows of love”
which played one lie after another
till someone broke.
But I guess he knows already.
the wafer breaks and crumbles
my teeth find a red muscle to kill
again my mouth bleeds
but no iron strikes my taste
so i wait for it
i wait for my imagined pain
to become real
i look at my hands
my unsightly weak hands
they are portals to my past self
how they weighed its emptiness even when they held you
how i knew that you won’t last, we won’t last
and i hated myself for knowing it
i wonder if my skin, my lips
gave you a premonition similar to that
did you know that we would end up sharing every hurt
and that it would never stop
that the we would continue to run even when the dream
every cut mine, every drop of red yours
everything painful – only ours
i draw a white light
on another perfect window
with my broken hand
the clouds have gathered
my blue stream must be dying inside
i speak my softest tongue
i lift my wounds
to show my untainted heart
stay on the waves in my eyes
touch the only vein in my body
that knows how to hope, i beg
but they drift away
before i name my heart after them
they drift away not wanting to be mine
the sky is clear again
i try not to cry, as i draw the lightning
that no clouds can gift my heart.
she traced the light on my chest
pulled out everything that stung-
the swings, my feet,
the shadow i decided no longer to play with.
the comparision table of veins and arteries
copied into my notebook.
the eraser and pencil that helped me document
in those tables my lackings compared to everyone else.
a page torn, and then another, and then another.
pages that learnt immortality by choosing my heart as home.
she stayed up nights trying to free me
as i stuggled and begged not to empty me.
she smiled and said the words she didn’t mean,
words that i wanted to hear from someone, anyone.
so i slept because she couldn’t be stopped.
“leave me alone” now hurt me more than her.
i opened my eyes and cried
for her work was done,
now i was no one, now nothing was mine,
not even my pain, not even her.
she dusted her cobweb skirt,
placed a kiss on my forehead
and told me to breathe,
breathe in everything
that i didn’t think i had the right to.
she told me to breathe
and to never forget what suffocation felt like.
it helps in becoming kind, she said.
as she wiped clean her traces from my life,
i felt better, again i was full.
i was full of her, of this love that won’t work out.
being full of her, i refused to breathe,
because i wanted to keep it that way.
i can’t…i just can’t bring myself to remove all the ellipsis…that i leave behind in my sentences. i know they look shabby… as if i don’t know how to create proper sentences…as if i have never heard of a comma. i am told it is something similar to ending and pausing sentences with “you know”.
“so juvenile”…my friend had commented. i remember saying the same words to my friends as well (but i don’t think my tone was the same, but i could be mistaken…or self righteous)…so it seems i am not allowed to take it to heart. i am supposed to erase the ellipsis…till they smile again and lie that “i will do better”…or that “it’s time i grow up”…or “gotta become a real poet”.
it seems it is okay to store my ellipses in my mind
to place it on an empty sky,
on the face of my teacher sprinkled with a hatred that i can’t understand,
on the hands that never reach out to me in daylight,
on the future i can’t seem to dream about,
on every minute that i walk alone on the streets
where i thought i would never have to be alone,
on the days when i know the answer but won’t speak up
for the fear of being right.
i don’t know how to live a life
where what i think has importance or the acceptance of others.
need to find a better home for my pauses
than pages that are mine
but only with conditions.
Don’t ask which part of me
are easier to love.
I have tried so hard
to become someone who cannot be be loved
without effort or tears.
My faith in love,
my faith in those who love
or it’s absence
is not so difficult to explain.
Clue: Every pop song that leaves you in shambles.
Clue: The books that you call cheap literature.
Clue: The lovers who want to get to the happy ending fast, so they can think about and focus on more important stuff.
Clue: The sappy feelings that you are not interested in.
Those who first talk of my skin and my volume when they talk of love.
(I mean you.)
Those who think that my view of the world, and how the world views me
is just a phase that won’t hopefully be their burden for life.
(I mean you.)
Those who tell me about my selfishness, my unreasonable fears, my unstable suspicious tiring mind over lunch as they run their blade over every bit of exposed skin of mine. Those who are satisfied when I don’t even wince as I bleed, just the way I have been trained.
(I mean you.)
You have made this whole process
more difficult than it should be.
Don’t ask me the easy way.
I might just begin to hate you for that question.
“You have changed”, I want to say.
But the more you change, the more familiar you get.
Now you look like the girl who lied she is my friend.
You look like the boy who crawled into my skin
only to confirm that I can feel the hurt just as he can.
You look like my hand that loves to strangle my heart.
You look like the sad unwelcoming roads to my breaking home.
You look like the one who desperately want to be remembered for leaving me in parts.
I want to say that I loved someone else
that couldn’t possibly be you.
But you are a person of this world,
you are the same as everyone else.
You sit here with me
hoping that you weren’t mine,
hoping that I would look familiar to you
if you looked long enough.
i refuse to go out into
the storm of kindness
where well-meaning people
drunk on the idea of charity
are running amok on streets.
they don’t know themselves
but they know my kind,
they know all the kinds of people
i might turn into
if i don’t give up and let them in.
they want to know the name of person
who broke me so well.
they want me to cry a bit
and to try saying hello first.
the seat they sit on, still has my warmth.
i still know the name of strangers i prayed for.
how easily things change.
every life had hope,
every pain could be overcome
as long as they were not mine.