He stepped down from his ‘cloud nine of the day’
as I stepped out from my house made of last drops of rain
and at the intersection of fleeting memories
we fell in love.
That is what I tell my friends
when they ask me about the moment
I was tempted to end the sadness of my life.
I tell them about the words I borrowed from his lips,
his borrowed tongue that helped me eat a bit more.
How I taped his adjectives on my mirror
so that I wouldn’t have to look at myself.
They sit with me on the table
I can’t bear to share with my love.
They stare at me, as I ask them what to wear,
how to hide my poison, how to hide the crack at the elbow,
the bruised collarbone, the split lip,
the ache in my heels, my frayed wings,
my broken voice
and all other reminders of what love has done to me,
and what more love can do, if i just let it in again.
They tell me it is all healed.
They tell me it is all past.
They hold their skin against mine to make me see
that the cracks are all in my mind,
how everyone looks just like me,
how everything wrong with me is now the norm.
And they laughed
when I looked at them with concern.
They dropped me at the restaurant
and vanished at the farthest bend of the road.
As I dragged my feet towards another story
that I will never get to complete,
another tragedy that suited only me,
I looked back and tried to think of all the things
that these kind friends of mine suffered
as they hoped and wished and lied to themselves.
The exceptions they now considered normal,
the wounds they cannot even see,
the pain they cannot call pain,
the love they cannot bear to leave-
I tasted these facts
in every spoon of artificial sweetness
I fed to my mouth that evening.
I saw you
in a moment abandoned by every story.
I saw you
slowly circling the window of life
to find a way in.
I watched you,
waited for you
as I lay on the painful bed of abandon,
as I wrote my hundredth song
on the beauty of giving up.
With my eyes glued to you
I ate another scoop of air
and lied about the sweetness it fills me with.
what a person like you would think of me.
As you flit across my only sky
I can’t help but hope for you,
hope to be like you.
I also can’t help
but hope to be free from you.
To wake up to a frozen window
with nothing to stop me from…
i try not to think
about the places that are lost
only leaving clouds of colorless memories
floating on my not so blue sky
places that are lost
not only to me
but to this world
now no one will ever know the sweetness
of the light that was never beautiful enough
to be captured and framed
light that is only beautiful only in its death
beautiful only when it rises up without a reason
on the surface of our eyes
how my eyes miss seeing everything
that now cannot be seen
my eyes wake up from the dream of yesterday
into this new day that i must write
feeling that again i have lost something,
something meaningful in that dream
that will never return to me
a dream that i have no right to dream again
i try not to think about such losses
losses with name or reason or heartache
but no matter how much try
some days that is all i can think about
If only yearning
was the correct word
for what I feel for you now.
There is a voice in me
that has taken over my throat
and it speaks what I never wanted to say.
It admits all weakness that you never knew I had.
What is the use of confessing
what no one even suspected?
I ask myself that
even as I continue to speak,
even if you are not here to listen.
Maybe your absence
has given me the courage
to do the right thing.
Now that you are gone,
now that you have changed
I have no reason to hide where I hid.
There is no love keeping me away from
the life that I always wanted,
that I could always have.
But the reason
of this freedom
also leaves me paralyzed.
Though there are many failures in my life
that I made you reason for,
now when I can do better without you, I see myself giving up.
How unfair it is to you, if I give up now.
How unfair it is to me, if I cant even taste the only fruits
whose sweetness you have not taken away.
Love was not that hard
and I do not want to add another line
to the poems and essays who blame love for everything.
That would be another lie, another failure for me,
if even when I am losing I seek someone
who is ready to sink with me.
I can’t hear your sighs
while you think I do not care enough.
I would love to bind myself and my life
Had I not been so sure
that freedom is the only measure of happiness for me.
The love they talk about
is not in my heart.
I can’t harbor such sweetness.
I can’t live in surrender.
I was not made for that.
My heart was not made to be loved,
but to be cherished.
I won’t settle for anything less.
I do not ask for anything more.
My idea of love was never
the protection or sense of safety I always lacked.
Or admiration true or false
that could put to sleep the complexes I have.
Or to be touched in ways
that make human hearts race.
My idea of love was
to be so precious to someone
that they you never
change me or break me.
You changed me.
You broke me.
And I only remember the sighs you took while doing so.
Making me feel less than what I am.
But still, I breathe the same air as you,
You almost loved me.