I regret to tell you this that the blue sky that you died for is not longer blue. It is painting its face with remains of our greed, with the colors of our wars. But it is still sort of fair. It is trying hard not to choose sides, not to become the flags that unites only those whose favorite words are ‘future’, ‘safety’,’money’, ‘greatness’, while they clutch in their hands the fate of people they don’t identify with- ‘burden’ they call them. ‘Fear’ is another favorite word of theirs. They don’t speak much of it, but it is most useful or at least that’s what I have heard from the ones we are no longer allowed to call out or even mock. I have lost every bit of my passive aggressiveness. Life has become more bearable now that my skin is not broken for making too much noise, now that we have learnt to hold each other’s tongue so that we may not lose more friends than we already have. I regret to tell you that your dreams will remains dreams and you might be one of the last to know how dreams felt in your eyes, how tomorrow used to change by effort.
On Sundays, I wear the purple summer dress that I once promised myself I would never wear. I paint my nails, I color my lips, and I open the windows in me. I become someone I was taught to hate, I try to break my hatred with my smile. I let myself be reigned by the greed for beautiful, sweet, shining things. I think of all the things I have tried not to want. I let myself be the delicate vulnerable woman that is easy to love, easy to idolize, easy to abuse, easy to blame, and easy to hate. I tell myself that it is not my fault, but the more I live the harder it becomes to believe it. I fall asleep on the floor where first I tasted blood, wondering why I can never give up on this dress, this dream that has given me nothing but hurt.
i close the window that must be closed a hope that must be dropped. the flame of love, the hand that holds me, scalds me, takes me to new places, makes me sit under a trees with another unusual bright fruits, asks me to cry like i did before, paints me, calls me beautiful, feeds me compliments, but just enough that my tears won’t dry. leaves me in lonely rooms of a rundown hotels with the promises of tomorrow, another town, another tear to paint. as he disappears at the end of the street, i close the window that must be closed, a hope that must be dropped.
hiding my smile when you walk towards me talking your name, just because i can (just to make sure that i can). feeling like a child when you call my name back. interrupting the meaningful silence with pointless debates, pretending to sulk, acting cute, being happy to act like idiots for once. wasting away time, walking towards nowhere because that is what we do.
painting each other again till we get it right. loving in every way possible. trying to become the love that cannot be forgotten. sweet words, sad past, family tree in red ink, lost friends, lost innocence fill our time. reliving the past that we suffered alone in each other’s presence. finding meaning in destiny, agreeing with god’s plan, begging for a day more of this, this happiness that fills us with dread and hope of being understood.
waking at midnight, hiding my body that you have killed for the day. waking at noon, looking for you, giving you second chances. getting back only one word reply- ‘hi’,’ok’, ‘hmmm’, ‘lol’,’k’, ‘bye’. waking up again and again. going to sleep again and again. murmuring your bitter name in my sleep with tears i won’t remember.
silence – avoiding uncomfortable topics silence – avoiding fights silence – nursing wounded ego silence – planning revenge (or something of that sort) silence – being handed the list of shortcomings silence – being handed ultimatums silence – having nothing to talk silence – feeling lonely silence – ‘love’ has left the chat
waiting at cafes that sell drinks which taste like the mass-produced dreams that make your heart burn and everything with chocolate as a cheap therapy, as they play breakup songs on repeat to normalize the pain of every kind.
Once you were my love,
but now and forever
you will be the person
whom I could never make smile.
Now and forever
I will cry over you,
run away from you,
promise myself to forget you
just to sit up nights
trying to recreate a part of you
that doesn’t hurt me,
that loves me back.
I will melt my bed and my sleep
under the flame of your smile.
The posters of superheroes,
of dear but forgotten stars,
they turn grey and burn green,
like my heart does.
My hands will paint your words
on these walls.
So I will never be lonely.
So I will never smile.
I will spend some nights
listening to why I am not the one you can love.
I will keep you awake and keep myself in pain
till I get this list down,
till I memorize it all,
till “who I am” just means “what you can’t love”.
I daydream about how I will leave you.
In this fiction
I know how to stop,
there I have given up on you,
there you are seek my acceptance for a change.
But I stop dreaming just before devising,
drawing a bright future without you,
without your rejection.
I stop because I have calls to answer,
mistakes to regret, trips to plan,
friends to cut off, paint my room black,…
I stop because there is so much suffering
I have to live through
before I am allowed to forget you.
i close all the doors as if a storm in coming, as if closed doors can protect me from something so huge, as if hiding is a better option than fleeing. ‘i wish i had created more places to hide in my life’ i thought this as tried to burn all my best clothes as if i will freeze to death otherwise and nothing i wear, no new face i paint on myself will deflect or reduce the hate in the eyes that look at me. soon i had nothing to burn, nothing to destroy. only resentment against myself, only a feeling of failure continued to live in this body growing each second, trying to push me out.
I am <so> and <so> because
I am <all innocent qualities which I don’t really have>
and people are <all words that can paint a thorough villainous caricature for my convenience>,
people treat me like <unpleasant words that are at least half-true>
just because I let them.
After all these years, is it any wonder that I act like <everything I hated in the people who supposedly made me suffer>.
So you must accept me as I am.
I have suffered enough.
I have reason for acting like what I do.
I was once <completely opposite of what I am today> and that is what I still am deep inside.
So you must wait and support and love me even I am unbearable.
A morning creeps up in my heart
and I think this is your doing.
But you do not know
and probably you never will
that any window that you open for me
will be another measure of my failure for me.
This beautiful world
can only keep me entertained for so long.
The positive attitude that everyone
keeps talking about
and eyes that I have heard
can put beauty onto everything it sees-
are not something that I have.
I think I had that once,
but that was so long ago
that I do not remember whether I liked it-
living that uncomplicated life,
not having to run away from people who do good.
When was it that a good person
started to seem the most dangerous person in my mind.
When was it that I learned
to break trust of others and still not feel regret.
When was it that I learned to silence my conscience so well.
I am not asking you all these
you obviously won’t have answers
but just because you do not have answer
to questions that I have watered all my life,
doesn’t mean that I will mock your vision.
Even if I cannot do what you do,
even if I cannot be what you are
it is not because they are worthless pursuits.
It is only because I do not have the strength to paint
sunrise on the ceilings of hearts made of starless night,
like you do.