The food tastes better today.
The light today falls just right into me.
“This would be a day like no other”, I thought
as someone wished me a happy day on radio
before playing a song that shredded my remaining patience
into bright bitter words that fit me better.
And now armed with an unreasonable and off-putting frown
I walk towards the house where my love lived.
I knew on a day like this
she would still be somewhere far away from every world of mine
and my knocks would bounce back
from everything of hers she didn’t want.
I stood there talking to my friends
who differ from me only in the fact
that they don’t have to walk this world in hope and fear of change.
I pick another flower which will definitely end with
“she remembers me, not“
“she will return, not“
“she is here, not“
As my shoulders melts to fit
the memory of her outline,
the song changes to something that refuses to end with
“i will forget her eventually“
“i will be fine like everybody else“
“i will find what it means to be me, by myself“
and something about that was relieving.
The false belief that I will be stuck in time
even if it was with a memory of her, with false hopes
sounded better than hearing the approaching steps
of the day that will cure me of her.
In the shade of a fruitless spring-less tree
as I tried to recall and write down
all the phone numbers I once knew by heart,
I looked at the sky
and laughed for thinking too highly
of myself and thinking too little about my heart.
That is the last thing I remember
before I was possessed.
Oddly I always remember this point of contrast
marked by the last tear I actually cried.
Whatever now had made home in me
that I could be complete even if I stay as who I am,
that I could stand in this world
witnessing beauty, love, companionship, faith, life
and be happy
even if it could do nothing for me, even if they were not mine.
Someone, who couldn’t possibly have been me,
lived my life in my place from that moment,
and I never had to wonder again
if I am allowed to live like this.
I never picked up another paper I threw in the trash.
I now never tried to play the role of the one with bigger heart.
I was finally free of hope, of love, of being myself.
Now it was the work of whoever wanted this body,
whoever wanted my life.
The ones who left
I hope they left with pockets full of everything that was mine,
that way I can resent them in peace
and call them thieves and scoundrels when I get drunk,
instead feeling that I have wronged them by being myself,
by having nothing in me worth staying for.
She told me I feel like frozen tulips
and I do not know what she meant by that.
She never talks of flowers or future
or what I might be in this world
by myself or by her side.
So we pretend such words were never said.
We pretend that the meaning we give
to each other’s words
are true and real
and the only meaning we need.
What am I leaving behind
that I force myself to smile only because it hurts?
What am I leaving behind
that I hear my voice calling out to myself day and night?
Being saved, being loved
is the ending I cannot accept for myself.
Whom have I hurt so badly
that all I want is – to be never at peace?
Rather than to hate you,
or hate myself.
I choose to hate this world
for messing up with your head and my heart.
It’s a hatred I have mastered.
The only hatred that makes me move forward
even if out of spite.
matter, substance, meaning…
as my vocabulary expanded with such words,
i had an inkling
that this is how
i would be disillusioned,
with such small words
i would be driven to despair.
i would find there is another face behind every smile,
and that some of those upturned lips are just empty coffins.
a smile so sad, a wordless lie
so easily becomes the most normal thing.
but do i even want to know
who lives behind such elaborate masks?
do i care to know how they breathe?
do i want to know who breathes in me?
or whether anyone really care about me?
i knew that now,
given that i have learnt to ask
all the questions whose answers can’t be verified,
living and trusting was bound to become harder.
now that i knew
that i am not capable of knowing myself,
seeing my reflection
was bound to get painful and confusing.
confusion is such a small word
for what life does to us.
all the small words
that are easily said than meant-
i hope i forget them
before i forget myself.
I wish for once to be unstable enough,
to lose it for once,
to kill every part of me that wants to take your name
every minute of the day,
to throw away this shit that you have
engraved me into-
into your bigger plans, into your list of exes,
into the list of girls who would never be good enough for you,
into the the stories you would prepare in advance for you next girl,
stories with my name,
into the list of people you block and regularly check on
just to ensure they do not find happiness without you.
I want to do something other that to be bothered by your existence,
to be obsessed of my role and use in your life,
that is now separate from mine.
I want to be myself for once, than to be just another girl
whom you no longer want.
Close my eyes
with your gentle kiss.
Help me out a bit.
Help me build a better lie.
Help me anyway that love allows.
Help me find a way to live
without hurting myself or others.
till I become blind
or till I learn to accept
all that is wrong with this world
and all that is wrong with me.
Close my eyes
with your gentle kiss
and let me leave this world
with your love
when the time comes.
Everyday I dislike my love
for you a little bit more.
All this talk about convenience,
about being of use to each other
should not be called love.
If I love you because you understand me
then it is not you who I love
but anyone who can understands me.
“i am comfortable with you” “you make me feel special”
“you can heal me” “i like spending time with you”
“you listen to me” “you treat me well”
“you are beautiful” (how you look pleases my eyes and my heart)
My liking you
seems more about me than about you.
I am disappointed by how I love only for myself.
Why aren’t you?