As I climb, my steps remembered the shoes I once had the ones that didn’t hurt so much and how hands of mine that hacked through them just to become my own person, some sort of grown-up. I climbed over the yellow soft dress and the light that it caught just to get this, this body that looks held together but is not (this body knows only how to fall apart), just to get few more shadows that ruin my beautiful wrist with their persistent passion. They claw through me, to see how I am made, how I look and speak once I break. A stranger once left me at the bottom of a black pond and called it love just so that I won’t cry and in return I called him my love just for few breaths, just for my life. I climbed over the right to mean the word “love” thereafter and the dream of knowing a heart other than mine. I breathe as if I have sinned yet I walk like I am happiness and determination in flesh. I cling to all the bitter bits of this world as if they would ultimately save me. I climb over, get over, and forget so easily, so bitterly that each feeling of mine is just a shade of resentment.
The wind is picking up. The white sand unlike water sinks everything too slowly. And so the shade less trees of eucalyptus become shadows that I learn to love. They become compass that knows no direction, but just piece this world to hold, the silent assurance that I am not yet lost, though my eyes can’t tell.
The wind is picking up. In the middle of this small storm, my careful hands writing the date on black board suddenly realize the need to be held. And so I fold and create a crease on another part of my face- the part that shows my heart too easily. Someone yells out my name and unknowingly they moor me to another violence, another need that I don’t want to carry in me.
the doll with black buttons eyes – i can be that, if you also don’t mind being one. we can sit under the shade of broken wooden chair. we can call this air-conditioned room our world. the ring on your finger will longer fit you, these bruises will finally leave your life. we can wear dresses that carry no scent of rain. and we will stay forever as girls without love, girls without heartaches to cure.
Now that we have buried all the clocks, a day passes only when our eyes meet again, night comes only when we say goodbye. And when I walk away from the shade of her smile, I think that I am forgetting something, something that would have made me sad. But her name, her words have grown ferociously, violently on whatever I once was. So it doesn’t matter I guess what kind of person I was till I can continue to be the person she loves.
Once the shade of the shutters are rolled down, once I am left on my own, reason and explanation rush in, try to cling and climb up the cracks of my heart, and the folds of my brain, trying desperately to stop me to reach out, to find me in the fog of fear.
But I am already far ahead, my hands reach for everything it could hold, everything it could break and hurl them at the window till it broke, till I could cry for the things that were robbed from me. I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop hurting myself even when I lay half-broken under dangling paper curtains, even when all that I broke pierced my skin and hurt me back. If I stopped, I would again hear the steps that always walks over my world and reduces me to dust.
The light that drips from your skin
feels like sunlight frozen.
As you float among the spirits
of far away desolate planets,
who have found home in you,
who like me have found you too full of life.
You walk to me,
hold me close and bury your fire
in my heart. The mountain and the sea
that belong to you,
have erased the life
that I’ve lived before.
On the path lined with trees-
their shade and your joys
becoming just memories with approaching night.
You walk to me,
you hold me close and bury your face
your regrets, your tears in my skin
and give me a moment of the future I can never have.
And soon I see you dissolve in the sea foam,
in the waters where we were born.
I find my hands filled with your share of happiness
and sky filled with flowers that once grew in your hands.
Even in the shade of the stories
I was not afraid
of being crushed
under the weight of the words
that could fall anytime.
For I know we live in a world
where even in accidents
we cannot be united with what we want
may it be life, death or love.
Not all that I write make sense.
But that is how these words
exist inside me.
That is how my heart has raised them
to play in the shade of gloom,
to lose themselves in the flood of feelings
and to become synonyms of people
who no longer remember me.
Love and concern
are not something that grows
naturally in my heart.
I have never known a time when they have.
Even if I have put fake flowers
in this garden of mine,
it is only for your sake.
Don’t you think I care enough
to tell you the words I can never believe.
Don’t you think my love is enough,
if it wants you to sit in the shade
of the tree I have made leaf by leaf.