At my core is a sickness- something hideous and wanting attention, always wanting attention, your attention.
Your attention is like a net that catches everything of sea including me, but there is no one there on that broken boat of your body, to pull you or me out of these cold waters.
Outside these cold waters our dreams are running on pavements of romance. They run on our feets, they smile with our teeth but then you fold yourself around me and in a shiverng language remind me that they don’t have our hearts and maybe that’s why they have been spared our fate.
I guess now I am the cruel one- the one people fear to love. This scenario was meant to be sad, but it isn’t somehow. (Why do the worst cases taste so bland to me when finally they arrive?) I guess it makes me relieved, if not happy, to feel loneliness more often than feeling distance. No one knocks at my door, and I can’t help but smile knowing it also means no would leave me. No one would leave me in love, leave me in pieces, leave me hating myself again. (Why do my hopes sound like running away even if I am facing life in every way I can, the only way I am allowed to, the only way forward that doesn’t require sacrificing myself again?)
The red birds and blue flowers are back in our world, it seems. Again I have become part cloud and part smile and grief. I wonder if you woke up as the light that only knows to cry, as the indifferent sun again. A day like this wasn’t supposed to happen, not now, when we are almost complete by ourselves. A day on which small impossible love like ours sings out from nameless graves buried in meters of snow.
I go back to sleep wanting to forget things that must be done today, dreading to walk into you, hoping to walk into you, knowing that I would love you again, especially on a day like this where I am too broken, when I am too much myself.
Days like this make me belief that I would end up with you no matter what. That even when I run away, even when I cry because of love, even then maybe I want only one thing- to be with you.
I find myself amidst the flowers that continue to bloom even without her. I find myself smiling, blooming, even dreaming, . trying to hold a bit more life in my hands in spite of the holes that are now three-fourth of my identity, that won’t let me keep anything. As I continue to pass through everything everything I run towards I think maybe this is the only correct for me to live, this is probably the only fate I could accept anyway.
I held onto my heart that wouldn’t stop running towards the possibility of love, towards you who smiled at me and yet never looked back. I held onto my heart, clawed at it, in fact. All because this role of wanting is an ocean of false memories and false hopes. This feeling of losing myself to something like love, someone like you, to everything out of my reach was wearing me down to a version of me I didn’t like. Wanting you has made me cautious, has made me aware of why I can’t be the one for you, why I can never be the one being loved. Wanting you makes me feel like I can never be happy again.
the one thing i can’t be is honest. though there are many other adjectives that stare at me from their balconies at midnight as i walk and crawl through the dirt road, through the pool of lights, crying and shouting and breaking dreams in every home that i pass by. i hear them shaking their heads with disapproval and hopelessness. i look at their hazy shadows and try to hate them in equal measures but i don’t because they are so easy to forget. but this honesty, this honesty that people expect vexes me. this expectation makes me want to hide, run, run over their hearts all because it is so simple. all because the ones who ask me of this through their tears are not mere observers but are the ones struggling to stay close to me fighting the unnecessary sandstorm i create everyday. they are the ones who deserve honesty. they are the ones i don’t deserve. but my dishonesty is not only for this world. it is the only thing i can offer to myself as well. so again, i wake up in their arms with another lie ready on my lips. i hug them with with my true love and my false heart. i don’t try to make it right when they are in shambles again because there is no fancy way to put it, there is no beauty in what i do, there is no promise i would keep. there are only people who i leave. even when i can’t bear to miss one more person again.
It snowed all night. All night I created stars for your eyes. I bore the weight of the roof as you slept, cried, ate, smiled, memorized dial tones, stared at me like you stare at screens with static, paused expectantly as you told me the story about your friend who is filled to brim with sugar and seems bit odd when he tries to smile a little bit more always, filled me with a momentary fear of whether you saw the corners of my lips tearing up everyday.
I felt again the illusion of love breaking, its crack trying to find my spine. Again you ran to me, trying to hold me, trying to look over all the parts of me that you don’t understand.
I slept and felt the snow of years settling on me. I felt your wings fluttering around in my head. I held the hands of god in my tiny fingers and said with a smile, “make me a flower, if you can” “make me something that is beautiful in her eyes” “give me another sorrow, something simple, something that can be understood and loved by her” “let me look at her, without feeling the breaking in my heart”.