officially it has been two years,
unofficially one.
I am happier elsewhere, and I can imagine you are too
still you remain
my inspiration for poetry,
art,
and my thoughts.
when I see her there with you,
I am not sad,
and I am not not happy
mostly, I wonder —
do you think about me still?
do you compare her to me?
I did, I compared him with you
even though I promised to him and myself
that I wouldn’t
but the mind does what it wants
do you fight like we used to, loud and aggressive?
or does that require years of confidence built up by baby love
do you love like we used to, admittedly & comparatively selfish and shy?
or was that our teenage bodies remaining in us past our 20th
mostly I try to remember how being freshly loved by you was
so much intense frustration, in all ways,
endless giggles, but often nights with dawn sorrow.
of course, I need to remind myself that there was bad
my mind tries to only highlight the good with you
mostly I wonder how such intense fighters
could turn to such formal friends
and mostly, I am disappointed that you haven’t
told me about her yet.
Dec 2, 2020
Dec 2, 2020 at 10:55 AM UTC
Then
We were always keen on space talk
We discussed what stars meant for us
I know you didn’t believe but
We wished on falling stars
We planned on where we would go together when we finally could
Today
I can’t remember the constellations
that I used to trace on your back
I had maps and shortcuts to all fissures and valleys
I really knew you inside and out
The black hole that the many conversations created
took everything that I had had in my capsule
One day someone will find it and dig it out
BUT REALLY
It could only be you again.
Mar 23, 2019
Mar 23, 2019 at 7:26 AM UTC
We spend the weekends together,
and send "good nights" during the week.
Lonelier than ever,
yet loved more than over a year —
You're the only one that knows.
If I have to catch myself at least once a day
to not
let those three little words spill,
I know I've made a mess.
I can't feel like this!
But feelings don't listen, dear.
In just six months I know we'll be apart:
"It's better this way", I tell myself.
But why does it hurt?
Why am I scared?
A strange limbo
I cannot explain
No, not even to myself —
Then how could I confide in friends?
I cling on to the hope
that we'll find our way back
because I think, I feel,
I hope again:
All senses that I had lost the last years.
But at the same time
I remind myself,
of how I did feel.
Maybe over time
we are just meant to
crumble to less than friends
and then lovers again,
and again.
Jan 9, 2019
Jan 9, 2019 at 5:59 AM UTC
three times we have made it to the northern sanctuary
each carried its own significance
each with its own emotions to bury
one: honeymoon phase
a new beginning, an exciting future
the only constant being us
celebratory boats, bikes, birds
two: friends join
a year in, half a year not all in
shadow follows me around
a week spent in anger, one or two exceptions there
three: pretentions
i hold it together, 1 and a half years in, you know
how much
i crackle, snapped and popped after
i did not dare show my emotions; grin!
Jan 28, 2018
Jan 28, 2018 at 8:22 AM UTC
it seems so silly to complain
about a luck that i have gained
a nice house
my own car
education, health,
and a loving family
anyone would look at me
with the silliest face
what am i thinking,
what a disgrace?
my problems are peas in comparison to others
but hey, i have feelings,
please don't neglect them.
a nonstop pressure
and accidental unappreciation
suddenly i am the girl
who has everything: "appreciate!"
Jan 28, 2018
Jan 28, 2018 at 8:19 AM UTC
i have not quite learned,
to love,
or lose,
or myself
"these will be the best years of your life"
echo in my mind
over the sounds of my gasps
for air, in between tears-
sometimes from laughter,
sometimes,
more often, from loss,
or perspective of it.
pretending
"yes i love it"
"yes i'm having a good time"
is not convincing
me
the only person,
important in my own happiness;
the hero of my emotions
learning to say no, stop, over now
learning to contain
a shout, a judge, a scream
not quite, but a little bit
the [best] two years of my life
have now so suddenly received
a forecast of much rain and clouds
always on the brink of hail.
Jan 28, 2018
Jan 28, 2018 at 8:12 AM UTC
there is a gun pressed to my chair
not sure whether to feel safer or more scared
the room is tense
waiter sneaks glances onto the young man, no older than 25
rolling his dice could not be louder than the 45 dB
silence, easier recognition just in case
i ask my dad not to take a secret photograph
fearful
Sep 17, 2017
Sep 17, 2017 at 2:10 PM UTC
slipping in and out of an unconscionable haze
but drawing back into the dark; one phone call away.
after escaping into the bathroom to cover up the red, my eyes stare back, out of apparently my own head
unrecognisable i stare at the girl
who just one more year ago was loved and unsure
two hours later another call becomes another wave,
i cater myself a slave,
to the sadness on the other line
in this together but 930 kilometers away
there's not much i can do than to sit here and pray
not quite religious and little if no hope for a chance, i pray for your little p*** and heart,
to feel no pain for one more day.
i also pray for my message to reach you;
your incredible ways we couldn't have taught you
Sep 17, 2017
Sep 17, 2017 at 2:02 PM UTC
Almost two years ago I wrote about how he told me
that we always had to question ourselves,
Almost two years later I read about the works of
Descartes, Aristotle, and other influential philosophers,
I begin to question all I know,
from whether the finger I write with writes what I or what it wants,
I’m skeptical of whether I am;
If I am, why? Why me?
I also realise how irrelevant it is
for me to worry about feelings and love and pain,
Almost two years ago I wrote daily
about myself as an object with experience
Now I write with skepticism
What’s the point anyways?
Mar 27, 2017
Mar 27, 2017 at 3:03 PM UTC
A sad man sits in front of me in the library
He seems generic;
A used sketchbook, modern glasses, and a Banksy sticker on his MacBook.
His arms are filled with marks
black ink solemnly attempts to cover up what is underneath
But they are beautiful
An abstraction of two people kissing, entwined like the style of the art
Further up is his star sign;
Aries
Honest, courageous, passionate
Impatient, impulsive, intrusive
I don’t know if this is him;
All I know is his art, encompassing his every stroke
and carve
His left arm has a different mark
;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
What happened to you?
Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 8:07 AM UTC