Sometimes I wish
I could hear
the way that you do
the way your voices overlap
falling into each other
like they belong
but to my ears
it sounds like chaos
like a storm
I can't quite understand
I wish I could hear from afar
the soft calling of morning birds
as they wake the earth
from its slumber
starting the day
with a song
I wish I could hear the water
how it presses itself against the sand
so tender and soft
like mother's love
for her child
I wish, I wish
I didn't have to put on my hearing aids
just to exist
in a world
that wasn't made for me
May 24
May 24, 2026 at 1:58 PM UTC
That soft brown eyes of yours
reminds of me of that sport you used to love
the way the ball pounds
only in your left
because somehow learning to dribble with your right
was a lesson you weren't willing to learn
the way the sun kisses your skin
reminds me of how you used to sit in your sweat
and call it glow
as if you didn't feel it
dripping from your neck to the seat
but it didn't matter
because it was as if heaven lowered itself just for you
that red piece hanging on by a thread
swinging
not tucked behind your ear
like how it's supposed to be
always out
like it was something
only we could do
funny how some things never change
the way we still dribble with our left
but learning the lesson we refused to learn
the way we still sit in hot cars
but with a blunt in our hand
feeling the heat
the wind across our skin
and our hearing aid
still hanging by a thread
maybe that's the part of me that never changed
May 19
May 19, 2026 at 1:55 PM UTC