Somehow I feel that the ropes that we walked on for each others sake were never really ropes but figment of our imagination stretching from your mind to mine connecting centers of chaos and wanting and hatred without direction.
Once I thought we stood together against everything else, against every force of reality. But now that my sockets have grown eyes and now that we have moved so far away from our self-indulgent blindness that we could never separate ourself from.
Now every glimpse of past is sad and pitiful. Looking back why does it seem we were just clinging to each other as if we were each other’s last hope. As if we let go, we would never know happiness of any kind. As if we held on, we could change each other and find in each others changing a reason to smile.
But thankfully or regrettably, I have not grown much cause sometimes I feel thankful to you for sharing all the dark moments with me even if you caused half of them. I feel oddly grateful to you for sharing my pitiful fate, my mundane days, my cycles of planned and impulsive destruction, for walking with me to our day of separation.
I hope that we find happiness in future without pinning our hopes on the ruin of another. I hope we see the ruin when our hands begin to create one. It was not all bad. Or maybe it was worse than I remember. Oddly enough I wouldn’t change our fates. But I will never wish for it again.
Even when I run away from you. Even when I hate you from the depth of my heart- the same depth where only you can breathe, where I can allow no one but you. Even then you sit there, in front of me, reminding me how difficult it is to destroy this love, whose truth and strength outlives each sad, tragic moment that comes our way, each moment of separation that we are capable of creating from our ugly wants. Once I couldn’t have imagined the joy and frustration of having a love like that. A love that has no end when end is all I want. A love that tells me again and again that I do not really know anything and takes away the key of choice every time from my hands. A love that will not even spare me to stay alive. What a blessing! What a curse! To have this bottomless hope.
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.
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.