our story is that we met when we were young
and that we were introduced by a friend of a friend
and that we never thought we'd end up together
because you had her and I wasn't half as beautiful as her.
but my side of the story speaks that
from the moment I've seen you
months and months
before we even met,
I was sure I would fall in love with you.
even when I knew you had her
and she had you
and that no one can replace her in your heart,
I believed that time will bring us together;
that the lacuna inside me
will be filled with your love;
and I was right.
(i have never been that right)
your story is that you liked me from the start
and that you still like me.
my story is that I reserved my love for you
even before I knew your name
and that I would still reserve some for you
even now that we're done
just in case
just in case
you choose me again
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 5:24 AM UTC
your words cut deep,
deep in the flesh of my soul
and that was how it’s always been,
I guess. And we were just waiting for
words to go between the words we said,
to add up to the little things that brought us
together, saying words to each other slowly,
without affixing other words that can drive us
away from each other, like when the love was said,
and when the love was gone, and all we ever did was
say ‘I don’t love you no more,’ instead of what we always
told each other, as if the words ‘don’t’ and ‘no’ are always just
negatively inserted between the cartridges of our vocabulary, and instead
of loving each other more and more, we settled on elisions, thrown between
our words, our sentences, our 5 AM conversations, our used-to-be-connections.
your words cut deep and we tear our tangled limbs. elision. that’s what it will be.
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 10:42 AM UTC
How do you tell yourself to stop? How do you ask yourself to end it? How do you let yourself believe that it’s really over? Do you wait for weeks, months, years, before you finally believe it? Or do you just wake up and find yourself not wanting him anymore?
I woke up to find you gone. Not physically, you were physically gone ages ago. But the day I woke up, your memory is gone. I woke up and for a while I just lay there, not thinking. Everyday, for two years, I woke up with the thought of you. First thing in the morning. At first it made me want to get out of bed because it meant seeing you. And then it made me feel afraid because we were on the brink of it all. And at last, when you left, it made shiver with cold pain and nostalgia because the thought comes with a dreadful feeling of your absence.
But that day I woke up not thinking about you. I woke up feeling nothing. So did it stop that day? Did it finally end? Is it really over? Would it come back after weeks, months, years? Or will I wake up tomorrow and the day after that and the day after and so on, finally free from you?
If it was “us,” how come I’m the only one in pain?
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 6:03 AM UTC
i suffocate.
you are every feeling
that goes nowhere,
every feeling
that lies untouched.
you are every year
that passes by,
unhappy
unannounced
untouched.
you are every kiss
i longed to taste.
every touch
i longed to burn.
you are every word
unsaid, every space
undone.
but you are every kismet,
every kiss of fate;
you just have to be.
and for this
i suffocate.
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 5:47 AM UTC
I watch you from afar
and my tongue longs to speak
the words I’ve been wanting
to say since the beginning.
My lips, your smile,
my cold hand and your warmth;
I watch you move and
everything in me stops.
& maybe you’re watching me too,
from afar. And maybe you construct
the same words, the same feelings..
the immortal poetry of our clandestinity.
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 1:42 PM UTC
When everything else seems so awry, I count on you. There are times when I start (loving) caring for someone who is not you, and it just goes horribly wrong, like I am a naked child who is flung out onto the world, alone. I wanted them to the point where it was already crippling me, killing me inside. I come back to you from time to time and you are always there to save me even though you might not really know it.
And so I need you because I don’t really know how to love anybody else. It’s always been you.
When I’m on my lowest or highest, there’s got to be something that will bring me back to where I’m supposed to be: to the comfortable normality, to the only thing where I’m actually safe. And that is you. When everything else goes wrong, you make it seem very right.
You are my neutralizer. You are my safe haven.
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 9:17 AM UTC
As daylight shone through my open window
I write this to you, for you alone
for every ounce of faith I have,
I have in you, for you alone.
And they say you cannot write a poem
without moonlight caressing your soul
as if night itself is the key to your heart.
It is not, for the key is found in you, for you alone.
You see it isn’t impossible; playing Debussy
with the sun shining, that the tremor brought by
the soulful ache of Clair De Lune can be delivered
any time of the day. This ache I share with you,
for you alone.
I touch the soil where we freed all our aches, and all our rage;
and I try to remember everything in vivid details: the corners of
your mouth trembling and your Adam’s apple bobbing, the way
you rested your hand on the caverns of my ***** The fire was gone but I still feel you there. This I remember not for what it’s worth, but
for you alone.
I think of you and how you held my head in the meadows,
while we lay in your Mom’s plaid picnic blanket, reading Sylvia’s
words to my heart’s content. We should meet in another life,
she said, we should meet in air, me and you. And I will meet you
there, not to live the other life or breathe the air; I will meet you
there for you and for you alone.
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 8:29 AM UTC