"But I lost myself, when I lost you.
I lost myself, and I lost you too."
Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 4:10 AM UTC
Despite the fact that I think about your presence
constantly
you're a ghost.
All I have are the memories.
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 1:10 AM UTC
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 1:37 AM UTC
Every night before the sun sets I write myself a letter to you.
Addressing the person I think I know.
Letting him know that love is possible despite the burns ingrained on our skin.
Every night after the sun sets I write myself a letter to you.
Addressing the person I have come to know.
The one that breaks the skin I thought was elastic enough to hold all pain.
Every night I fight myself.
Begging to move on.
Telling myself that the cracks in my skins are battles that have been won.
Feeding into the ******** the world feeds my hungry soul.
Instead, I know.
That somewhere out there you're living a life--
full of cracks that have nothing to do with me.
And in the deepest and most honest part of my soul,
I know that this is the most ****** up of all.
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 1:35 AM UTC
You're looking for love
but I'm right here?
I promised you I'd share my world
so why aren't you here?
I want to feel your hands
wrapped around my face
curling around the edge
of the stubble you hate.
But instead you're gone.
And your hands long to be
on another face.
Looking for the love
I was so eager to give.
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 6:14 PM UTC
I want you to know
one thing.
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.
If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.
If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.
But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 5:57 PM UTC
Nothing worse
than looking at the one you love-
only to realize,
they do not look back.
Instead
you find the paint on the wall
is a different color--
no longer matching the black
they once engrained.
Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 1:14 AM UTC
"That there
That's not me
I go
Where I please
I walk through walls
I float down the Liffey
I'm not here
This isn't happening
I'm not here
I'm not here
In a little while
I'll be gone
The moment's already passed
Yeah it's gone
And I'm not here
This isn't happening
I'm not here
I'm not here
Strobe lights and blown speakers
Fireworks and hurricanes
I'm not here
This isn't happening
I'm not here
I'm not here."
- Radiohead, How to Disappear Completely, Kid A (2000).
Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 2:48 PM UTC
I thought,
Maybe I only wrote when I was in love.
But you see,
I still am.
It's just now he's gone,
And I can't seem to find those beautiful words anymore.
Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 2:45 PM UTC
A drowsy mind
furthers a crack in the pavement.
The hope of a static day
is suffocated by his breath.
He then carries
the torpid body,
across the bridge.
Oct 3, 2015
Oct 3, 2015 at 8:51 PM UTC