I Mourn the Loss

Of yesterday,

A yesterday where all my moments dwell

And a wish for not the halting of time,
but for its advancement to slow.
 

 I mourn the loss,

Of all who came,

All who came into my world

But now no more than dusty memories.
 

 I mourn the loss,

Of each year,

Each year that came and left

Shaving off another year from that face.
 

 I mourn the loss,

Of the day,

The day that was bright and sunny

Now shifting colours from that brightness

Into the singleness of the night.
 

I mourn the loss,

Of myself,

Myself who was here in this moment

And then scraped away once a new moment arrived.
 

 I mourn the loss,

Of today,

Today where I stay and feel everything

But will soon switch into what was,

Never to come again.



Chasing Butterflies

How does one let go of the child,
And grow up
How does one move on
From unfinished feelings
Where does an old life take the soul,
And how can it start anew.

Constantly going from one being to another
No breaks, no thoughts, just flight
Running towards one dream
But never catching
Never understanding
Missing the details and never seeing it for what it is.

A fleeting fantasy
Delicate and beautiful,
Mysteriously enticing;
Failing in its capture.

It’s time to take a step back
To examine the shattered heart
Patch it up
Save it from breaking entirely.

It’s time to stop chasing.

 

The Dream

I knew

I would wake up

That it was too bright,

Too perfect to be real.

All those glimmering smiles,

Those sweet vanilla words

Dripping off their mouths.

The evenings were almost manageable,

Just a thought of seeing those

Colorful, lovely faces;

Faces which weren’t meant to be mine.

I had become light,

Vibrant and weightless

Reflecting those colorful faces,

Smiling with possibility

Singing with clarity.

But I am colourless

I was not meant to touch that light.

A window had been formed

Keeping me apart, long before I had hope

Before it became a dream;

A dream too real

A dream too perfect

A dream that wasn’t mine to have

But of course

A dream that inevitably had to

End.

wrong

and i need to remember
normal
what normal is
was
carved cross the length of my arms
hooked round the base of my heart
punched through
every time i kissed you
every time i fell forward into your arms
every time i ran towards each moment together

you tell me you can't fix this
and i know
have known for a while
but i still do not know what's wrong
whether i am capable of fixing this
and i am afraid
so afraid
afraid i won't get back to normal

what is normal
where can i find it
how do i get to there
just what the fuck is wrong with me

because i do not like the slide
between each pale page of emotions
where i am stable then rocking

you tell me to get help
because you don't know what you can do anymore
that in the end this
is something i need to do
and i know this
but do not even know how to characterize
talk speak open any sort of words
to tell this story
and what exactly is going on anymore

for even this poetry is uncertain

disposable

inside, i asked you to speak your mind
and got no answer
as expected, really
since the you that sits at the back of my brain
is usually silent

and i asked you to tell me with your hands
what you think of me

push me, pinch me
drag your nails along my self-esteem
and leave me marks to be proud of, give me war paint
give me scars
do what you will to my body, take what you want
from my words

just leave my mind alone, leave it
to process this all later
after the blood has dried
and the room is empty
and i begin to feel full again

i wanted you to tell me, but by accident
that your mind is just like mine
and i don't need to worry
that when you open my body up
my mind will unfold with it
and you won't like what you see

and so i distract you from my thoughts
with the disposable skin that protects them
from you

vast

and this is
vast,
wide enough to carve
the length of my ribs open,
split along the vein and picked clean
by the birds,
trace your fingers along the edge
of the clouds,
hooked beneath and pull
hard enough to stir a breeze.

i’ll ask for the blood
and the bone of my body,
empty along the horizon,
stretched along the soft
curvature of the earth
and abandoned
face down in the fields,
for time long enough
for it to flood again.

in the end you
are left with nothing
but dust,
the glint of the sun,
the glare of the grass,
the scratch of the water
as it rises
inch by inch,
foot by foot,
mile by mile
along the edge of the shore
in the fields.

for we are nothing

but tiny.

tickets

drying my eyes with the crumpled plane tickets
that brought me here
as the new ones slowly print, inch by inch
and the ink dries upon my cheeks
and the time has been tattooed into my eyelids
ticking away, ticking closer and closer
to the end

closing my ears to the sound of cars
passing by on an open road
as the sound of wheels on concrete presses
into my memory and suddenly
i am in a taxi, speeding towards the last drop
of this city, and part of me is left behind
among the crashing water of spring
and the wood chips of an abandoned playground
and the puddles that we avoided as we ran
uncontrollably down the street
laughing

i am not laughing now, except to appear
alive as the boy who makes my coffee
makes me a joke too, free of charge
and i don’t want him or anyone to worry about me
so my mouth opens a crack, and my eyes fold inwards
and he smiles, placing my drink on the counter
and i burn my tongue trying to drown
that fake laugh

the tickets are done printing
the zipper has been forced
over the gaps between my fingers
where your hand should be
and the puzzle wavers as i pack it, but
the pieces stay together, at least until
i close the suitcase
and somehow, i am confident
that it will remain intact

i crumple the tickets in my hand
in an effort to make them look old
as if the summer had already passed
and i was on my way back to fill my empty palm
with warm skin, soft words and a hard press
of my mouth to the sound of something akin to home

i can feel the push and pull of two places
that have shaped me and are shaping me still
as my body curves around the ribs
and hips of a new kind of comfort
and the stiff seat in this airplane
reminds me that i am never as comfortable
as when i am with you

and i resign myself to sunny months
and warm music
and the discomfort of a puzzle
that is trying its hardest
to stay together

and i resign myself to dipping my toes in the water each night
pulling out the glue from between them
and keeping the pieces together
pressing my hand into the soft wood of the dock
in an effort to shut out the cold air

and i resign myself to the confidence i feel
knowing time will be on my side
when i need it to be

i throw the old tickets in the trash
and slip the new ones inside my passport
ready
to keep myself together