like the legend of the phoenix, all ends with beginnings
my heart creeps into my mind
like young lovers' hands
reaching for palms and fingertips.
my mind tells me to forgive you
but my heart is heavy with pain
my mind tells me to accept what has happened
but my heart is full of memories
my mind explains the pain away
but all my heart does is feel
my mind tells me to forgive you.
it is seven twenty-four AM
there is a violin playing in the distance
and I am still haunted by you.
I am slowly letting you go though,
like feathers falling loosely
from my fingertips.
I watch you float slowly to the ground
where you can no longer hurt me.
I feel myself grow taller
as you lay beside my feet
and maybe someday a soft wind
will lift you slowly
into something else.
he knows it's justified
to kill to survive
dark thoughts still come sometimes
but I think I'm going to be all right.
It's not that you're disposable or replaceable...he just chose to forget how special you are, what a good person you are, how beautiful you are inside and out. You are. You are. You are. Stop crying, you are. Perhaps he'll remember someday, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that you don't forget. You are worth it, beautiful. You are. You really are.
the truth is
I want to die
but the truth is
would hurt more
than my life.
for in living
it is only I who suffers.
and I have discovered
that the greatest pain
is not in being hated,
but in being ignored.
the only way for anyone
to really understand what I meant by that
is to live through a life
of being overlooked.
and never being heard.
of wearing masks
so everyone can stand being around you.
of being constantly told
that you are fine
when deep down you know your truth.
of using tears
to clean your face
just so you can smile once more.
at your inability to articulate
these feelings into words,
failing to realize that there is no way
that they could understand what you mean
because what you experience,
this personal hell,
is not in their scope
I could go on
but their voices have seeped into all my cracks
"it's all in your head"
"get over it"
"you're just being dramatic"
and I end up judging myself
feeling less like a person
and more like a thing
that was made wrong.
a fucked up
everyone has shit
why can't you keep yours in line?
everyone has pain
why can't you fix yourself?
just talk about it.
let it out.
what is wrong with you?
why can't you just tell me?
I hide tears away like illegal contraband
feelings that should not be indulged.
I wear smiles like special passes
so I can weave my way around society.
and all I really want
is a little patience
a little acceptance.
I'm not too much of a freak
that I cannot be loved.
I promise I'm not so bad.
just give me some time
I'll be good
sometimes my apathy falls
like a silk robe to the ground,
and once again I stand before you
ashamed of myself
I try to cover the monster that you ran from.
I walk on the sands of the hourglass
for our time has ended.
there is only one set of footsteps
because I needed you to carry me
but failed to realize that you were not strong enough.
I sit alone on the beach
unable to listen to Best Coast
because that would make me cry.
I hug myself
and feel very
the gentle waves of memories
lick at my feet:
your unimpressed face when I laugh at the way you mispronounce words,
or just your face
or just the way you could make me laugh
your disgust when I joke about your sexy ass,
or just your ass
or just the way we could joke about that.
it almost makes me smile
but you are the only person alive who knows my tickle spot.
the way your fingers comb from the back of my neck
to my bangs like a fisherman's net,
a feeling the sea breeze wants me to forget
as it tousles my hair violently.
the shore has too much of your face.
I dive into the water to cleanse myself
of the haunting absence of your presence
but I am too small.
my thoughts and your words surround me,
and in my attempt for closure
I am nothing more than closed.
cleansing nothing at all,
I drown in this baptism
as the distorted and unfamiliar
waters of the past soak my lungs
emptying me of breaths of hope
filling me with waters of desperation.
I am sinking into the darkness of depression
my chest compressed like the lungs
of a deep sea diver with no chance of return.
my life consists of needing mirrors
to remind myself
that I am not invisible
you have taken parts of me
and thrown them away without question
the ease with which you let me go
echoes within me
like a "fuck you" spoken in church
a crack on the pane
of the room's only window.
you were not a liar
but you made yourself one
and I say that I do not hate you
because I've forgiven you
but you made that a lie also
you shaped it so that the reason for my lack of hate
is that I can no longer bring myself to care.
I will smile when I see you
because you can no longer hurt me.
your apathy shook me
like an antique chandelier
just before it crashes to the ground
and the fact that you read my poetry
and feel nothing
makes me shiver
you are cold.
you are the corpse frozen in indifference
a dead heart pumping the liquid
of fake tears.
you look and move like you used to
but I can see the stitches in your skin
the glassy, empty, gaze in your eyes
you are a monster
but I am no longer afraid.
I drop my torch and pitchfork
and watch you
destroy all the things that we built.
I raise my palms
and warm myself by the fire.
I am a leech hungry for pity.
I say I want death
but what I really crave is recognition for the life lost.
If I cut my wrists
will the red flash like warning signs
in an empty road?
will the blue of bruises
cry out to you like a lake in the desert?
How much will it take for you to see me?
I'm sorry my tears are colorless
they cannot paint the story of my pain
they cannot make the ribs of this cathedral
a stained-glass window.
I am as silent and grim as a cemetery
looking peaceful in just the right light.
Look beyond the beautiful
the ivory plaques,
the angel statuettes...
dig deep for the decaying bones
the foul smell
the dead body that I am,
being eaten and gnawed by worms
and invisible, microscopic, living things.
I used to enter the coffins of bathroom stalls
to dance my weird away
to be free from prying eyes…
now, they are chambers for my sadness
too small to hold it all
they are the mummy's sarcophagus
and I am cursed with your ghost.
but the only place
large enough to hold all this loneliness
are your wide open arms.
as if it was easy
like loving you,
as if it wasn't more
like dismantling pyramids from the top
down with a toothpick and an unsteady hand.
someday you will choose to love
but I am not the girl
to change your mind.
I am slowly accepting your death
brushing the dirt off of artifacts:
the way you held me
like an ancient civilization’s most precious deity,
late night walks
through labyrinths, with no wish for threads of return
jazz concerts, green jokes,
our staple, our oral tradition
and food always parted at the middle
a sacrifice for all the hopes we had
in this dating ritual.
you will never be the you that I once knew,
that you is dead
existing only in my memory
like a brain kept in a jar
away from the rest of you.
This new you
(the only you that exists)
is a stranger
a different person
an un-dug desert, jungle un-ventured
I grieve for he who has died
it would be stupid to dig up his grave
inside of you.
sometimes I think of you and die inside. and I end up crying in bathroom stalls. I miss you. I miss you.
sometimes I want to send you all these books I've read because they remind me of you but the truth is that no two people read the same book, no two people are in the same relationship, a conversation is not shared, a moment, a laugh, a look. We were never a we. There was a you and an I. A you with your thoughts and an I with mine.
sometimes I think that perhaps if I write you letters. endlessly. endlessly. and put them all into a box I would eventually come to realize that there will never be a possibility of you replying to them. And you turn into nothing more than a thing in the distance that my voice will be unable to reach. and slowly. slowly. I will accept that you have gone. that how we are is no longer what we once were and that we can never be that again.
we used to refer to each other as "home". are you a wandering vagabond just like me? are you a homeless, restless, soul? are you like Julian's tourist? I am. I am. I am. You were my ultimate symbol of acceptance. and now nowhere is safe. I have taken to walking the streets every chance I get. Every time my mind is not locked on some book. on some lecture. on some dream. I am walking. walking. walking. It is the only way I can survive. to stop. to pause. would only bring me to the loss of you. it is this reality I run from.
I read book upon book to escape you. blare music to my ears til I'm dead. but all the words contain you. every line has you. the songs sing in your voice. you are everywhere. there is nowhere to run.
I'm sorry for being too much like Tereza, you deserved more than that.
and I am too scared to open my journal.
they say doing a thing 29 times makes it a habit
then I thought of all the times this day
that I didn't see you
and think that
that had to have been more
I'm still not fucking used to it.
loneliness clings to me like wet paint
so I walk the streets at night
leaving behind neon footsteps
traces of your absence
color the asphalt
blue on black
the wind is cold
but at least it touches me.
I have grown more intimate with the rain
you are unfamiliar.
my brother's phone vibrates
and I remember when the sound
I am lonely
and I am sorry for this.
I hang on you like a noose
I am the weight you drag
the useless end of a tow truck
I know I shouldn't need you as much as I do
it is unhealthy
it is unfair
like all parasites,
I must die
so you can explode like the amazing fireworks display you were always meant to be
or burn burn burn, you infinite star..
the building is covered by rain
it pitter patters on the roof
like quiet whispers to the ear
by an unknown breath
I cringe at the neck
where are you?
rain flows from the cracks
on the wall
the windows are crying.
the paint is damp and cold
I am on my bed
to be drenched.
the room is filled
the floor, invisible
my bed floats
as the waves lick my sheets
I am cold
the falling of rain
the sloshing of waves
sounds encircling me like arms
touching my cheek
hold me by the neck
crashing raindrops like the banging in my chest
I cannot breathe.
I read back old conversations
and they are not our voices
they are muffled sounds
I cried at the breakfast table this morning
my father carefully explained,
"wives must be submissive to their husbands"
"housecleaning is the domain of the woman"
"God created woman because man asked for a partner"
This past semester I wrote two papers
One, a fire and brimstone sermon
I quoted Anais Nin
sending the creators of sexist commercials to eternal suffering
"Damn them!" I said. "May they burn in hell."
For the women they portrayed were doormats
The other, the role of women in the 1920s,
No longer confined to the kitchen
they dropped ballots with their new freedom
they wore short dresses and short tresses
fingers wrapped around cigs
they quoted Wilde instead of Alcott
they danced until their feet hurt
I read of Anais Nin's "new woman,"
her partnership, not submission to man,
I craved a room of my own, neigh demanded it
For sheep stayed in the kitchen,
The Woolf had a study.
I read poetry
I wept for their starved, depressed selves
caged, suffocating inside the clasped hands of a man.
Loved like rib-cage jails.
Adrienne Rich made me angry,
forever trying to fit into a box
she was always too big for, spilling
at the edges, her shaved
legs like "white mammoth tusks"
I was finally
happy with my womanhood.
Uterus, vagina, vulva, clitoris
they are mine.
Breasts free to move unrestrained,
jiggling under my shirt.
Wetness between my thighs.
they are mine.
I am not ashamed of what I am
because there is no shame.
I am woman,
I am girl,
I am lady.
I am a creature
with a voice
a creature who endured much abuse,
continue to endure.
I am woman
and I don't have to be wife or mother
unless I want to be.
I was not created for man;
I was created for the same reason he was,
to serve the same great purpose on this tiny blue dot.
I am not rib.
I am Uterus, vagina, vulva, clitoris
Breasts free, unrestrained,
Wetness between my thighs.
I am a per.
I am a wo.
I am a hu.
Man and son need to back down,
collaborate not dominate,
speak not command,
for when less are forced into silence,
the maddening scream
hidden inside skin and bones and muscle-meat
this world of car horns and tire screeches
crying and wailing from raw throats
angry protests of indignation
could use a little music.
have a God,
be a deist instead
then marry me,
the mediocre Catholic.
let's have children,
let's not have children
because "Parents, they fuck you up."
but you'd make a great dad
and I'd make a great mom...
We'd love them (the children or child..whichever)
and we'd be weird
so they'd (or he or she..again, whichever) be weird
and their friends would say,
"Who the fuck are The Beatles?"
Eh...let's not get married
let's hold hands first
or be together a year
or get through one meal without having to giggle and look away
because I caught you staring at me
or was it me who was...never mind.
Now I'm studying my hands,
the ones you have not held,
the ones with the ugly, fat, stubby, unlady-like fingers
the same fingers you said you loved.
you're such an idiot sometimes.
Remember that time you said I was beautiful?
oh right, you've said it more than once;
Do you notice how when you're not looking at me
I stare at your face?
your perfect lashes?
I should stop now.
see you soon,
I feel the feeling of wanting to die,like standing on the edge of a high place;
glass elevator ascending
closer to heaven.
as I read my book and look up
your eyes say,
"you are beautiful"
as shyly, they look away
I am ugly.
I am a monster with stubby fingers
a dead animal on my head
a screaming in my brain
marks on my face like dots splattered from broken ink
you said they looked like stars
and then you made me cry
I thought I'd never do that again.
I crack the glass under my feet
break through and fall,
hot wax dripping on my back
meat and bones, crashing
closer to heaven.
As I was making my way to the kitchen
I dropped the cup I was holding
and it bounced on the floor, bangin in its wake
but still the sound did not fill the emptiness of this large room
on this lonely night
I miss you
I miss everything
No face comes to mind
no moment, no place, no voice
only a feeling
a feeling that I was once whole.
I am broken now
like the shadows the trees' leaves cast
on my solitary walks
I am quiet now
or have I always been?
when you say you like someone else
I retaliate with silence and made up faces
of calm and i-could-care-less
"haha that's so funny"
you're not thinking about this
you are not thinking about her
you are looking at his eyes
(stupid eyes that look at another's)
don't grit your teeth
oh he's holding your hand
did he hold her's like this too?
get rid of that sarcastic face
he is looking at you
and he is holding your hand
I'm beginning to frame you in forever.
But we are young
And that is stupid.
But what if I want to be stupid?
Hey as long as it's with you.
I'm listening to that song you gave me,
"born to multiply
born to gaze into night skies
all you want's one more Saturday"
All these ideas of youth,
"I feel like I could just fly
but nothing happens every time
We are young and
I can't stop thinking about you.
And pictures of you make me smile
And I replay your laugh again and again,
unending like that gif of you
in my phone
on my palm, you
in a cosmic, comical,
Whoever thought that
that boy who sat at the back of the class
the boy I'd never talked to
and only shyly added up on facebook
would end up being you?
maybe this won't last forever
or even that long
(at least not by adult standards;
who rate everything by time
and not the intensity and quality
of our shared moments)
Maybe this won't last forever
But at least now it feels like it could.
The song has ended
...but I shall play it again
because there is such a thing as a replay button
And you are still here
you can still dance on my palm
you can still smile at me across a concert crowd
and we can still walk the pavements at night.
We may be young
But I've already imagined telling you
no matter what happens between us
let's agree that what we have right now,
You've eaten two chicken burgers in front of me
and the second time
you were beautiful.
That sounds stupid, but hear me out;
your lashes are so delicate
like gossamer black frames of thin, long, lady's gloved fingers.
I sound crazy, I know
But I'm writing a poem about it
and Art is a license for madness;
So leave me be.
I'm stalking pictures of you on the webs
of the internet
But these golems
these flat, lifeless, smiles
leave me unsatisfied
None of them capture that moment
when I was
in a state of silent staring
like cobwebs in empty, abandoned room corners
your voice muted by the screaming
in your eyes
bit into that burger.
I wonder how I looked then.
Let me be the Bonnie to your Hyde
I can be the Z to your Scotty
Let's, let's ruin each other baby
Arms and fingers locked
Drugging the other down
We're two gnarled bodies, writhing on the ground
No morphine needed
We're both about the pain
Inhaling you fast
You're my line of pixie dust
I fly to fall down
Faith? Hope? I just need to suffer now.
You're the apple tree splinter
Poking my eye so I can't see.
The mirror on your door is me
And the fairest is anyone but you.
I'm your painting mr. Gray
Hide me in the attic; can't throw me away
Let's, let's ruin each other baby
Oh wait we already did or do.
These brass scales are getting heavy,
It's me for you
And do you hear that sound?
It's our siren lullaby.
We crash into each others'arms
Tied to each others' masts;
Drugging each other down
There's the frog and the water-sound.
We're one, we're done, well that was fun.