With my back to the my cold family name the metallic alphabets printing hard on my clothes, I stand with my feet half out of my pretty shoes – with my painted nails still hidden in the skin of another animal, my hands revolving the beautiful replica of Saturn around the plastic heart on my elaborate key chain- a stage of its own. I stand and wait for you to open your door on the floor above. I hear a faint click, a phone ring, footsteps running away from the world (why do I feel such sadness when I hear that?), a door left open (to everyone but me) I sit in the middle of my living room floor staring up, at the underside- the creeping mold of the stage where I played your lover, your nemesis. It is cruel and incomprehensible that we can still live, take calls, make jokes, eat, and still have the want to live. After hurting ourselves and the world for the sake of love, after all that, is this is it? When you find your room, your world without me which direction does your heart turn towards? Do forget from time to time that we are supposed to forget each other? When I find my loneliness becoming greater than me, when it starts spilling out of me on dinner table, when it makes me lose my mind, am I allowed to let go of you? Is this what this distance, this decision means? I hear your window open, I hear your excited voice (why do I feel color of anger filling me again?). I wonder if you have really found your new life or is this an act you have put for my benefit? Your kindness could only be in my head, as was your love. TV drowns your voice again and I thank all the accidents, all the things out of my control, everything that moves us away from each other. Otherwise, I never could.
All the lights that were meant to light the way, end up looking like spotlights fragmenting the world. Fragments so beautiful that I never bothered with moving towards the place I was meant to go; that I sit here, saying goodbye to people who hope to see me wherever they will end up at.
But we won’t be seeing each other. I let them hope anyway. That hope makes them smile brighter. that’s the way I want to remember them, that’s the way I want to remember this world.
It is not easy though – to love all who love to keep walking and to love my small place and my small heart at the same time. It is easier for everyone – for the one who must stay and the one who must walk to think of empty hands as freedom however hollow it might feel.
and people move on
as if they don’t hear the sobs.
as though open wide world
is a collection of soundproof rooms.
as if words, love and feelings
are comfortable furniture
they bought for cheap.
as if all i am allowed to be,
all you are allowed to be-
is a milestone in each other’s life.
With each day crossed out. With each dresses, each mask added to the my wardrobe. With each hand that passed into mine, with each hand that moved onto the next too easily, I realized I knew how to dance to this tune that used to frighten me once.
Another stranger, another potential lover, another sun that has already grown cold, whispers in my ears – words I do understand.
I search for a harmless smile in my bag. I hang it carefully on my face. I turn myself into a gift, into a substitute of love for this person – who is dying like me, waiting like me, for something, anything to fill the time left.
Now that I am made of evening skies, if I move into that night, I can’t ever return. The one who tastes the morning sun, the one who kisses your lips, the one who somehow lives on won’t be me. So let me remain this beautiful. Let us stop here. The snow would be here soon and time would bring us small doses of the soothing forgetfulness. See how you start to love me again when your heaven and your heart give up on all their rules.
Like me, probably many have tried their best to set their limits, have learned how to stop before learning how to move. We recite story of forgiveness, of patience, of eternal undying love to our children at night. and when they fall asleep we recite these stories to ourselves, so that we may not forget them. I remember all the proofs, every news that told me how wanting more, wanting somewhere’s share of happiness, wanting too much- can result in catastrophes. that is how I learnt that some wants can destroy lives, can create demons out of people. The one who wrongs and the one who is wronged just move around this world trying outrun the aftermath of careless actions.
I do not want to fill up your absence with anything. I want them to become holes that move and eat and behave in ways delusions cannot. I want them to ruin this world for me. Even when time eats away my brain, I want to remember only you. I want you to be my phantom heart. I want you to be my only love.
Thank you for seeing my rough and the jagged mind, blood running down my arm, hope running out of my eyes.
Thank you for trying and for telling me when you couldn’t try anymore. You have made me feel that I also deserve decent goodbyes.
You cannot love me.
I could have loved you,
though I didn’t.
But it is fine.
Call me at the end of a tiring day,
when you cannot move one step further,
I will try to soothe your heart
just like you did.
From the day that I resolved
to create a door in my life
for you to move out me,
to forget you,
to even hate you, if it becomes necessary.
I thought resolve was all I needed
to get rid of the poison that you had become,
to create space for myself to grow into,
if I had to grow without love or understanding anyway.
I sorted myself and my memories
keeping only the ones that would help me
convince myself that you were bad for me,
that your love could blossom only
in the season of your selfishness,
the season where I was expected to wilt for your sake
and smile when you called it love.
I tried to remember
everything that I read in your mannerisms everyday,
everything I had overlooked as visions caused by my paranoia,
everything that came true,
everything that would have been true, only if I had let you.
I know that you were not evil,
but only human.
I know that I may have made you bleed
more that I can admit.
But I am also only a human.
Maybe I could have accepted your human nature
if my weakness, my complexes, my cruel words
could have been understood by you as well.
At some point
there was nothing you could do for me
than to remind me of my monstrosity everyday,
than to wait for me to breakdown.
At some point
there was nothing that I could do
than to walk away
and try to hate you.