If I were to explain the reason behind the mismatch of my mouth and hands,
I would only say this: displacement.
I choose to answer what I cannot hold.
I wind up singing instead of touching.
Surely you can remember the time
I asked for your permission; you looked at me strange,
and not in a way that inspires
Freedom. What can I do except laugh?
Dare I turn this itch to clasp into something
as deliberate and precise as words?
Dare I spit volumes instead of throwing pebbles
and watch them sink instead of creating ripples?
When we argue, and I extend my arms to drive a point home,
it is only because it is better than the alternative, which is concession.
Inhale exhale i n h a l e e x h a l e
in lieu of our thumbs stroking the other.
I know when to keep my silence,
but forgive me when my hands do not know any better
than to shake and disturb.
May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 6:10 AM UTC
all i notice is the glare of desk light, unforgiving
violins sounding, brown wood against horse hair
air from the fan close by, cold against my sensitive skin
bitter taste of medicine on my tired tongue
yet no one disturbs me
i am left alone to peruse the tiny dust motes on my laptop screen.
can one enlighten another with such simple observations?
the world is just a collection of useless objects interacting with each other.
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 2:37 PM UTC
i am tired. i have been cleaning,
solving sudoku and crossword,
writing, and playing my violin
with nobody around to witness
the way my hands are never still
i want them to stop shaking. once
in motion they never seem to listen
to me when i say "it's over, you can
rest", instead they find new ways
to involuntarily release my anger.
my shoulders are aching. i cannot
stretch and reach my toes anymore.
i packed my bags today. truthfully,
i wish i could just hold you again
(even if my arms tell otherwise).
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 10:10 AM UTC
i can remember, quite accurately
the day of your birth
the name of your mother
how you like your food spicy
how you have never had a first kiss
the shape of your mouth when you smile
the feel of your rough hands in mine
and all such simple truths as this
is it so hard for you, in turn
to remember how i cannot deal
with nights as lonely as this
how it is only your voice that i yearn
how i might not make it another minute
without checking to see if you have perhaps
acknowledged my existence, in a separate
universe than which we live in, that of pure silence.
Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 9:09 AM UTC
so darling, it's funny,
i just had a swedish massage and
i cannot feel my bones
but for all the wrong reasons.
Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 10:53 AM UTC
but it sure as hell isn't this silence, it is
not this gnawing sense of self-doubt
that seems to take over everything i do
for you, for me, for us.
i wish you would just talk to me.
explain why you just walked out
as if nothing happened, as if you
didn't care about the wrongness
and the seven thousand thoughts
in my head. i feel like screaming
a hundred times a day and you
can't even bother to call me.
you are not the only one
who's scared all the time.
i'm constantly shaking
and i am always alone.
i'm done being alone.
i need you but i also
need to know that
i can love myself.
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 11:37 AM UTC
i am so lonely. i
could hear the ticking
drag on and on until
i am forced to deal with
the thoughts in my head
and they are not pretty.
in the same way that you
have chosen me not
for my looks, but maybe
just by circumstance.
we were at the right place
at the wrong time. it only
felt wonderful at the start
and we watched as it slowly
receded to nothing.
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 10:57 AM UTC
but i also want to write without you.
i want to escape your pages and feel
the rough texture of my own. soon,
when all the want has vanished and the
thoughts i have can be fully unraveled,
when the flowers have wilted and dawn
has reached its maximum fluorescence,
when the pebbles stop skipping and we
cease to be a single entity, bound by
ink and rhyme, rhyme, rhyme,
then finally, I can be my own lines
my own paper, my own spine
my own verse, my own free soul.
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 2:02 PM UTC
i.
if you ever decide to disturb my life again
know that not only will i keep the door double-locked,
i will also put ***** traps under every step leading there.
ii.
you only had to say four words.
they didn't even have to be in chronological order,
but just enough to make a sliver of sense.
iii.
she was never just a fictional character come to life.
you were never just the attractive misfit that stole her heart.
i was always just the expendable one, disregarded at the soonest moment.
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 4:26 AM UTC
what am i feeling?
i feel our whispers
even though i have to strain to hear them.
i feel our touches
as if vast stretches of land and water didn't separate us.
i feel our love
beneath layers and layers of uncertainty
and it feels real.
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 6:29 AM UTC