If we were a movie,
I’m sure no one would watch
since you got the girl,
despite breaking her heart.
One, the times you cheated,
two, the times you’ve lied
about where you are or who you’re with.
I can’t count the times I’ve cried.
Yet I wake up every morning
wrapped in your warm embrace,
a spell so toxic I forget
those days you lied right to my face.
Am I weak or just forgiving?
Have you changed or your disguise?
Either way I’ve little choice
since I’m addicted to this lie.
Yes, there’s no denying I should hate you
after all you’ve put me through.
The facts are undeniable
yet still I’m sure I love you.
Apr 28, 2020
Apr 28, 2020 at 10:38 PM UTC
My saccharine youth will hurt one day
bring forth cold tears that burn
my cheeks now lost in spots and lines
my heart aged with concern.
So delicate is this perfect time
afraid to see it go
I hold my breath as present turns
now past - a flake of snow.
My sunny days of youth melt fast
what if I can’t look back
Infected with nostalgia’s curse
I’m poisoned with the past.
And even if I dare to look
it will be through some lense
so warped and cracked, redacted past
an act of self defence.
The water b’neath me brings me close
this chapter’s near its time
I’ll slowly breathe and carefully watch
the life I love pass by.
Jun 24, 2019
Jun 24, 2019 at 10:20 PM UTC
It’s an average day with average weather
driving down an average road in mid-september.
The radio is on,
the volume is up,
your favorite song plays,
your car is your club
and just as the melody comes to an end
it fades into another blends
present with past.
You hear the opening notes
your breath gets stuck in your throat
there’s a sickness deep in your gut
and tug on your heart but
you tell yourself your illogical.
You tell yourself it’s just biological,
trying to listen with your ears and not your heart
but the notes are torture, tearing your scars apart.
You’re bearing them whip for lash
because what’s killing you is the past
until you find yourself
reaching out
to switch stations.
I think you might understand when I say
there are some songs you just can't listen to.
Two years ago you heard that song for the first time
and it became your anthem.
The beat and you aligned in rhyme and time
and you even sang it too,
although, a little out of tune,
but you were so happy then
singing it with him.
The song was a soundtrack to your everyday life
played it twice in the morning,
thrice in the car,
throughout your day at work,
and after at the bar.
So the song is infused with all those feelings,
marinated in your memories,
baked till golden,
and now too good to eat.
Old playlists are perfect snapshots of what your life used to be,
hollow pictures of feelings rather than images
of who you were rather than what you saw.
The ⅜ time marking the pace of your heart
the major modulation, how you felt at the start
because some songs are made entirely out of memories.
The type that are scratched and recorded over
that you wish ill to the composer.
The type you wrote with people who are gone.
that you can’t bear to re-live, even through just a song.
The type you tried to erase
and the song is an ugly reminder you can’t face
because it's proof that you can’t erase a memory,
you can only hide it from view.
Worst of all songs don't change,
ten years out of use but
note for note,
beat for beat,
it will be exactly the same
You, on the other hand, are completely revised.
Not one hair on your head, skin cell on your body, can be recognized.
We do everything in our power
to love the present more than the past
still you’re jealous of the song
that lives on in your own history
without you.
See you didn’t want to change
but you did.
And the song is proof.
You’re staring into the hole
a happy memory left behind.
Longing for something
that doesn’t exist anymore.
So you don’t play the song
-- can’t play the song.
You hide it
wherever you’re hiding
the rest of the memories.
Jun 24, 2019
Jun 24, 2019 at 10:18 PM UTC
Most everything we did, we did too many times to count.
The kisses hello and kisses goodnight,
all-consuming hugs and kicks under the table.
The side glances you'd give me,
with that half smile
in response to a joke that was not good
and was probably mine.
I told you I loved you too many times to count.
All the nights out and all the nights in
under covers with a movie we would give up on
because I was asleep in your arms,
on your shoulder,
too many times to count.
You pressed your nose against mine too many times to count
so close that I'd look with only one eye at a time
and try to memorize your face
smiling in response to that very special smile you saved
for only when we were nose to nose
then wait not so patiently for you to kiss me.
I wish I had a tally
of all these nice things and nice words
to wrap up into nice memories
I could keep and count for years to come.
But I regret much more not counting the other things
of the not so nice nature
important things
that needed to be counted
and were not.
Like all those times you made me cry
for equally uncountable reasons,
reasons I can't remember clearly
but at the time sent a chill through my heart
ran through my nerves
got caught in a cold breath
so that I felt the absence of your love
the emptiness of where you told me it was.
I felt that hole too many times to count.
You left me for more interesting things too many times to count
so that I felt so alone
even though I was with you
disappointed that you had disappointed once again.
You, being you,
and me, being me,
being not each other and not close either
then crying again
realizing we would never be.
We went to bed angry too many times to count
and woke up forgetful every time after
because our problems could not be fixed
and we knew it would do us no good to look at them.
I thought about breaking up too many times to count
and clearly you did too,
because I can count the number of times we did, once.
Still, you broke my heart too many times to count
before, during, after our relationship,
picking up the pieces, the uncountable number of pieces,
and piecing myself back together
on just another occasion I would not bother counting.
I loved you in spite of everything too many times to count
Let my heart burn with quiet hope
hoping everything would be okay
even though it was never okay
and my heart was already cooked black
yet still, I could probably start counting now.
If only I had counted
then I would know how much I don't need you
then I would have some grand sum as proof
then I wouldn't have to count now
count the tears I still cry
count the nights I can't sleep
count the drinks I don't count to drink more
My heart falls silent after a fit of anguish and pain and desperation
watching the gears in my brain snap with the
incompatibility of reality and my now silent heart
Fallen flat. too tired to get back up
Jun 24, 2019
Jun 24, 2019 at 10:10 PM UTC
In less than a second
and for no reason at all
I'll revert
to who I was
before I felt fixed.
Or perhaps not turn,
just remember
that I am still just half
of my whole.
Or not remember,
just forget
and sink into a sickness,
the bad habits
that still linger.
But regardless of the reason
suddenly and all at once
I slip back into a state
I worked so hard for so long
to escape.
Watch my labours unravel
and realize I am no better
than I was then.
The facade cracks
and the feelings flood
the infection set loose.
It starts in my stomach
turns my blood black
sinks my chest in
so that I can't breathe
and don't want to.
It numbs my toes and my fingers
draws the very idea of happiness
out of me
as I exhale
and wish it was my last.
then my brain stalls
immersed in a fog
eyes unwilling to focus,
unable to focus,
on anything but the pitch inside
bubbling in my throat
suffocating me
my mind becomes possessed
by thoughts that are mine
but not in my control
making my world spin
in the circles
my thoughts trace
the dam behind my eyes burst
and my feelings wash over me
out of me
and suddenly I want nothing to do with you
nothing ever to do with you
never to see you
to ask you to please take your leave
since you've left me anyways
so that I never have to feel like this again
never suddenly feel again
the hole you carved
for yourself
the empty place
you left behind
please never again
see all the love you poisoned
never feel it course through my veins
realizing the love had nowhere to go
but circulate within me
trying to run from me
run to you
slicing exits
for my red love to leave
so I don't have to feel
the pain within
just the pain that's real
please let go
I can see our futures in an instant
how much it will hurt to see you
move on
and how much it hurts
to realize
I have not
from my stationary spot
in my living lie
that I tell myself
so that I get up in the morning
with the courage to survive the day
the day that includes you
will always include you
and it hurts so much
of course it hurts so much
still
will
for a while.
I blink and it's over.
Colour rushes back into my world.
Life rushes back into my body.
I smile,
and laugh,
and thrive
in this new normal
even if a part of me knows it isn't.
Jun 24, 2019
Jun 24, 2019 at 9:49 PM UTC
I only got to be strangers with you for a
fraction of a second.
A half of a blink
and when I opened my eyes next
you were the you that you are to me now
and stranger-you was gone forever
but I remember him in perfect detail.
He is younger than you,
a little dumber than you.
He has longer hair
and a more rehearsed smile.
He makes puns and dad jokes
tells stories and laughs at mine.
Speaks of things, not feelings
and I can never quite tell what he’s thinking.
But unlike just-you and just-me
there is space in between,
a gap I tried to fill with
facts about his favorites
points about his past.
But still, he is a stranger to me, as I am to him
So there are many more things I can’t quite pin…
Like I don’t know how his hand fits into mine,
how our fingers feel tightly intertwined.
The way he smiles when he says ‘I love you’
and the shine in his eyes after ‘I love you too’.
What it’s like to lie on his shoulder
his arm around me, so I am closer.
The blanket over us to make it dark
or under us for a picnic in the park,
know what he’s thinking from just a glance
remember what it’s like to share a dance,
how he looks waiting under a tree
or how his kisses are so sweet,
to look deep into his smiling eyes
and know without doubt he is mine.
I did not know these things about stranger-you
because before I could ask he disappeared into just-you
and then I didn’t need to ask.
I hope we are never strangers again.
Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 11:52 AM UTC