his name doesn’t feel like a dying world now. once, maybe once blue was his favorite word, i was his favorite personthingmedicinegame hope but now that he is burning all his notebooks i believe life is getting better for him. he paints skies for me, paints me flowers that have never known cold. once, maybe once i could let myself rest in him but now that he has found himself i can’t bear to be lost in front of him.
When I sit still I am not waiting. I am thinking of what is not and why it should never have been. I zoom into every empty space and practice how to look away when it hurts me. I remove my watch from my wrist and place it next to plate for a better view and a ruined palate. I start from the names I know, I start from the what they used to be and what they have become. All the while not addressing the forest in the middle of my home and the animal cries in my chest. The fog in your mind now spreads into mine. Now I sometimes forget your name as you forgot mine. I dream of making you cry to forget my own tears. I wait and sometimes dream that you would never arrive, that I would forget whom I was waiting for and I would smile not knowing why.
You are gone and I try to hold the spoon like you used to. I chew my food with my left molars as you did. The ghosts that I have wronged, that I have forgotten now include half of my teeth, teeth you would have never used.
You are gone and you are happy (probably). So I memorize name and phone number of your every friend, I recall the fondness you had for them. I wear your feelings when I meet them, I wear your feelings even when they won’t fit me. I wonder if they noticed how I was spilling at some places, how I was non existent in other folds- folds that used to hold you so well.
You are gone and I am gone (or that’s what I think). I am my work, I am my songs, I am the adjectives you made for me, I am the report cards, I am the dust that settles on it, I am the afternoon TV shows, I am the language I don’t understand. I am what I am fond of. I am mostly just you.
You are gone and I fear there is no one that can stop me from growing into you.
I close your heart. I stitch you back in a same haphazard way I do almost everything in life. The same way I knocked down every clumsy fragile landmark that could have actually helped me at the end.
From your mouth I have come to know that my hopes are tied to the throats of my saviors. That you are disgusted as you see me sitting on top of sleepless nights as I help myself with another serving of self-pity that I won’t be able to digest. That I laugh a little too long at the every joke that the world plays on repeat, all the while the cruel thread that I am I cut the skin, I cut the voice, I cut the air.
“this what i am, change me in an easy way, see this is how i am hurting, why won’t you look at me when you said you wanted was the real me”
I say as I try to crawl back into the hide of your love.
“i will stitch you back, if i have hurt you. if you want to hear goodbye, i will say it a thousand times. please, please stop crying. please for once hesitate before you ask for the door out. ask for once if it was easy to take in your sorrows, your demons, your cold shoulder. ask for once how i have fared, how i have come this far, how am i letting you go, letting you be, after loving you so badly. “
After a long time, I feel like walking towards the calm unknown. The wildness in me that I had thrown away, is waiting for me. They were always waiting to tell me all the gossips of stars and fishes, how lost and alone they both felt to know that blue they had in common were totally different worlds.
The clothes that made me look somewhat beautiful I fold them with care, leave it somewhere you won’t miss. Their newness would be the new metaphor for sadness, sadness – yours and mine.
There must be a magic to undo this curse of our feelings. There must be an answer, a life that doesn’t necessarily need us to be together. I will ask the cruel fairies that live in dying breaths to make you forget me at sunrise, to make me feel something for you again, as my life with you ends.
And every morning I hear wind, I hear birds, I hear children play around in me. I am filling myself with everything that reminds me of what I really am. I let my heart do what it wants, my heart wants no part in this remaking of me. It starts it’s days praying for your return and goes to sleep, thankful that you won’t.
now that we both are standing lost at this market to sell our heart. now when you are just a silent mural, i feel like pretending to miss you. in fact, that is the only thing i do.
every day, i write something that could make a better monster of you. every night, i get better at shedding fake tears. our love looks like a lost cause even now, but it looks more beautiful since there is nothing real about it anymore.
“it is all fiction”, i tell them. “i am a liar”, i shout. but they love me anyway. they love me the way you should have, you could have, it was the easiest thing to do. there were so many easy things, things that will never be easy again. since, i have chosen the most ridiculous way to live and the most difficult the way to die, the only non-pathetic way to die in our love.
i dream of another now.
i choose faces cautiously.
i choose people who do not remind me of you,
who cannot turn into you.
but sometimes i end up falling
in the traps that you have left around
and i end up wanting you again.
i end up paying people in love and skin
just to kill what you have left in me.
you are my loneliest dream. but you are a dream nonetheless. i am bound to find my skin stuck to yours. i am bound to run through darkness sometimes because you, sometimes for you. and when the clouds part, it is fated that i fall for your smile lit by a certain sorrow. even as you burn me, even if you try to find someone else in me, someone that I is dying in me, i cannot help but call what i feel for you as love. here, i can call it love. only here, i can bear to be so close to you.