All the windows in this world are aligned in one line tonight. One line of sight is enough to hold all the meaning and everything there was left to see.
All the places I could have gone to, all the places that I own just by my passing through they are but one. The world is just one person, whose hands are laced through mine.
The world that was so difficult to approach had found me finally. Finally I have spoken the words of love to the one whom I feared I will never reach. How simple is this happiness of walking forward, walking towards this smile. How simple and beautiful is this feeling now that I have found it.
How sad are the hours that follow, the hours that push the world out of my view again. Yet how comforting is this love that doesn’t leave my side even when we have run out of the easiest moments.
“he left me” this is where I would have wanted everything to end, at “he left me”…simple and clean and yet carrying a sadness that can be forgotten or remembered as something that just exists. Exists not like floods but like rain. Exists not like a story of love but a story that had a possibility of some meaning. “he left me” could have existed in me, in this world, how words of no significance and no power exist.
But it didn’t end there. What he did was simple, but what he didn’t do those are the things that exists like flood, like pain that can exist without him. He left me a leaf and not a flower. And knowing this, even if I forget him, it won’t end the pain I feel at the sight of flowers, the anger the green fill me with, the feeling of being wronged at seeing everyone who gets both, while suffering less than me.
He left me a life that I am capable of living well but a heart that won’t ever feel at ease as long as I live wanting love for myself.
Things I now remember are mostly absurdly simple and painful. Like the last time we met like this, you had a white suitcase that seemed like your new pet. It looked at peace with the snow that was getting on your nerves. When you smiled all I could think was now you cannot bear the weight of your old green bag pack, now you cannot bear the winters I am part of. All I could think was that you are growing old somewhere far without me. I didn’t know that the next thing I would have to do, after facing such sad realization, would be to smile for my sake more than your.
Things I now recognize are are only those that I don’t know how to fix anymore. Like today as I helped you out of your heavy white coat, as I made the coffee of your liking I kept staring at your small form and your frightening transparency. I looked at the scribbles of black marker at the corner of suitcase. I wondered where were you when you drew that. At what point of your journey you could no longer pretend this was a life of your choosing? Is your loneliness so overwhelming that you are not afraid of buying and ruining whites? Is your loneliness of my making? Is that why you wear it so dearly?
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”.
His face lit up with the death of every colorful explosion in the sky. He hates this sky on other days (among other things). Today he loves it, this darkness, this crowd, even me. (Maybe not me, but it doesn’t mean anything to me now. But in moments like this I am reminded of the “me” who would have wanted his love or at least be part of the world that can be loved. The ‘past me’ shakes off my hand and stands there looking at him as if he is her sky, but only finds the signs of deaths that have nothing spectacular about them. I stand there looking at my sadness, his sadness breathing the air and living some sort of life for once.) He stands there looking at the sky through my silence, through my awe, awe at his simple happiness. (How long has it been since he has loved anything with his breaking heart.) He stands there looking at the sky even when curtain of stars resurface, even when the screams of children dissolve. He stands there abandoned by the world and yet happy. (I stand there abandoned by him, by myself and yet happy)
On a spread of fake smiling suns and the unreasonably happy flowers in pink, I kissed your smile without wondering what it meant for me in the long run. Without knowing if you would want me back the way I do.
And when you held on to me I didn’t know how to stop my violent tears or how to let you know how your embrace is the only thing that feels honest to my worn out heart or how precious this honest touch, this simple love is to a person like me.
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.
The tears in my hands
slowly loose the tint of sorrow.
The sorrow that I thought
would live longer than me.
It loses its color,
it loses its pain.
It becomes water-
pure, simple, and necessary.
for a new and better life
to exist and survive.