the sky is a warm blanket, yet we
are inconsolable. wrapped and untouchable,
cloaked in isolation
desolation; this is not about crying anymore.
this is not about blood.
this is about ragged breaths, open pores,
mudstains. muddied legs wrapped up in pink
and white and flowered sheets. this is
about needing more. this is about
the hopelessness of the
search, despite and because of
the ceaselessness of the fight.

We will not be falling down anymore,
though our limbs turn jelly: this is about iron
spines. This isn't about eyes. This isn't about
weakness. This is about outshining the sun,
about the unflinching--
not wincing in the face of the truth.
This is not about invincibility:
this is
about

invulnerability.

in words, I find my truth
in words, I take refuge

there are tales I have to spin
to keep myself in orbit
songs I have to sing
to bring myself back

and life is difficult
every day ends
with me and a pen
the healing process
tend to myself

in the end, I've collected enough evidence
that words can sound like choking too
in the end, I am a testament
to how little crying can fix
you just learn
to turn to other things

in the end, I hope to have
three friends:
in the stars
in the spaces between
letters
in myself

You make me think of mornings and you remind me of things that I'd lost, without it hurting.*

(A)

She
We sit at coffee tables and look at each other. My gaze on yours is heavy. You never seem as troubled as I feel. If the world were a river, and we stood in the middle, you were the one who went with the flow, and you changed it, to move wherever you wanted to go, knowing all along that you could. I turn my back on the current, weak and shuddering as it rushes towards me, past me. I like the smile on your face, the fact that you want to be my boat.


(B)

He
We sit in the kitchen; it's bathed in the morning glow. Your eyes are gently closed, palms cupping a coffee mug, held to your lips. We are kept warm this moment in time, while the curtain gently flutters in the morning breeze. I don't know what to make of you. The way you always seem suffused with light. You bring me my day and my night; and the brightest I have ever seen the moon is in your eyes.


(C)

She
You're like evening gowns and the words 'nothing to worry about'. Tears of joy when all your life you have been taught to pray, but never with the certainty that your prayers would be granted; tears of joy when after all these years you got what you were looking for anyway. I still kneel at the foot of the bed we joyfully tumble into each night. My lips, so used to smiling, since you came, repeat 'thanks,' softly, certainly.

(D)

He
I think you are the chance I was given to do everything over again. You found me in troubled spirits and I love you in good cheer. We started with nothing, a thousand miles apart, and then I found you (and the other way around) and together we found: this round table made of wood, these throw pillows, a sofa. Our friends say it's a start, but you tuck your head against my chest, with a knowing smile, and whisper: *"It's every happy ending I could have ever imagined."

they say to be suspicious
when a naked man offers you a shirt but

how does that apply
when I love you so much
but I am empty

when I love you so much
does it matter that I feel nothing
for myself

does it matter that all I ever wanna do
is go to bed or talk to you

do I love you less
because I hate myself?

it's funny because heroes die for love
I mean, the characters in novels
and stuff but if I were to die

for you, that would be nothing,
zero, nada, zip;
I am proving my love

through every breath
that I take, darling;
you are what keeps me alive

and  I will not die for you
because you do not want me to

I tried making a poem
with internal rhyme and
ended up with a masterpiece
of spacebars and enter keys

I'm done forcing poems out of me
strings of words tied in bows don't
flow, if I must bleed words, self-inflict
a few choice cuts that will change things

contained in the walls of a room called mediocrity
I will wallpaper them with truth and
learn inspiration, like
a second language
or the better half of me

a wall is a solid and sounds are vibrations
and my heart beats strong enough to shake foundations
neurons pass messages around in my head
it says: in second grade
we learned sound travels fastest
in solids and

I know I will be heard

All I wanted was love, but I swore I’d never ask because it doesn’t count if you force it. So at the start, I brought you cookies and sat beside you in every class, chattering endlessly. I wrote you letters, and made tiny watercolor paintings of your face. I didn’t think it would work, but I guess I was so good at falling in love that you thought you were too.

But then, just because ‘I love you’s are exchanged doesn’t mean the feelings are the same, and when you started taking longer to reply and were barely by my side, I began to wonder. So I went further—bought you only the most expensive presents, gifted you even the parts of myself I’d been saving. Who could blame me if I just longed to make you happy, and thought that meant giving you everything you asked for and wanted?

Towards the end, I realized you wanted more than I could ever give because you looked for it in someone else. But like a fool, I still loved you. Am I not nice and sweet, not right or enough for you? Here I am, still begging. Who else would have forgiven you? Who else would have needed you that much, wanted so badly to be with you? I deserve to be loved back.

But you know what? If even now, you’re still not sure about your feelings, then just admit you don’t love me. Let’s leave it at that. Even if I plead and cry, don’t let me force you. Love isn’t supposed to need convincing. Just because I want you, love you doesn’t mean I don’t deserve better. And it doesn’t mean you can love me. It doesn’t mean you’re supposed to.

we are no good for each other
spamming me "hello" won't get anything done
it's not nearly time to run
away yet, sweetie, you want to die
so do I, but we're going to different places
you don't even believe in the sky
and I have hung myself from it

I am sorry if I draped myself in faerie lights
and in that moment you saw me with your eyes
because I am actually not so bright
instead of brimming and spilling over with love
the layers of my skin is a monster I want to fight
a container I want to break and shatter in the night
I am under the surface, and it is difficult to breathe

meanwhile I am starting to think
you just want to be loved and it grinds on my
conscience that I can't give you that but why

are you so angry? I wanted to fix you and
I had intended to but you don't stay in one place
stop staring at my face like you're going to eat me
don't raise your voice at me, I frighten easily
your eyes are so dark, when I look at you I feel
like I'm trapped and never getting out
why are you so angry? I can't touch you
and not blow up myself, when I say

you make it hard for me to breathe,
that's a bad thing,

and we are no good for each other

i know your eyes are tired
your exhale sounds tired
too, here's what i want you to do
start breathing out the tears
my dear
start breathing out the tears

don't catch bullets with an
open mouth, and
a pained smile is not a smile
so stop smiling
when you're dying
inside

close your eyes
close your ears
open your heart
i know there are monsters
but listen
feel for the light

don't be surprised you'll
find it's inside you
my dear
it's inside
you

and maybe this is the way
i’ll learn to love again
through fogged-up glasses,
the secrets the wind tell.

when it’s raining outside
(this month, it has been)
when i’m camped out
on my bedroom floor,
i want to be found, but not now.

not by you.
not when i don’t know what i want to do,
yet.

the secrets the wind carries away.
the lifting of the
weight.

She tried to copy the messy buns

but the style

doesn’t go with her broken smile

And she could draw pretty dolls on paper

But she’d been made of flesh

And pencil, brain, and heart are powerless

She could do a lot of things

Actually

Gifted, they called her,

But she had

the kanji character for beauty

As the background of her computer,

And she’d dip her brush in black paint

And write it on her white walls

That maybe one night while she slept

It would seep into her skin

and settle there

why don't you like me
when i'm twisting myself this way and that
and running to catch your wandering gaze

why don't you like me
when I obviously like you
and I'd pretend not to know the homework,
the lamest excuse, steal a few minutes of your time
and talk to you

i'm not letting my heart bleed
when you're not even around to see
but give me your word
and i'll squeeze it empty
to make room for you

I am not ready for love
but i'd paint you in my dreams
tie a string around my pinky
write your name along
my palm lines,
on the backs of my eyelids.

tell me
that every breath is a breath for you
and every step,
a step with you,
so I don't forget
and leave everything behind

I will keep your heart in mine


maybe you'll keep me
alive

I.** That night, I placed a pillow over my head; I dreamt that I was dead. I had cut my wrists over the bathroom sink. I was laying down on the floor. On the bulge of my stomach, written in blood were the words: "I feel better now." Over by the side, in blood too, the wall proclaimed: "This is my version of okay."

II. I dreamt of going to school on Monday and spending my lunchbreak crying in the bathroom. Hiding in the library when I'm full of tears, showing up to class empty. Seventeen is hard. Life is hard. Tell me what you wish for me. (I don't like going to bed sad.)

III. It's so strange that I still feel so alone, maybe worse than before. I am tired of falling apart; I will try holding myself together. Like a scarecrow, mummy, dandelion puff. I will not fall just so I don't have to pick myself up again.

IV. Give me a reason to surrender, or a viable way out of this mess. I don't want to break my heart, or anyone's. I just want to stop hurting. (I knew it wasn't going to be a good year.)

V. I told you "no promises" because I don't need to promise. I have no control when it comes to you. I'm stuck with this overpowering love. I'd drive myself crazy missing you. I'd forget to be happy in the search for you. I promise I won't stop loving you; I can't promise I'll survive it.

I don't know how to feel about you but mostly
I like how you pointed out to me
that grass looks lovely lit by approaching
headlights of gleaming silver
cars, when you're sitting on gravel and dirt
and a garden grows in hearts
of people who like to hold hands
and you told me that forget-me-nots were your favorite
but you never told me why
you said maybe if we ride rollercoasters
together you'll show me how there are stars
in the day and how leaves can shine gold
like veins and you smiled
saying, yours and mine

A woman of 20

her heart was captured

as she shot photographs of

the sunrise that had the rainbow at its edges.

A girl of 15

wrote a poem and filed it away

to be passed around someday,

a piece of paper decorated with flowers.

A man of 30

to whom the world was a canvas

made note of the colors

how magnificent the blend.

And an elderly man

gave a sad smile:

How his wife would have loved to see this.



                                                                            

And it was beautiful

And it brought them together

In ways they knew not,

As the plane dipped,

the clouds danced,

and their thoughts sang.



                                                                      

                                                                          

                                                                                                                

A young girl at the back

Eleven going on twenty

considered how, as time passed

and they got closer to the ground,

the windows on one side

held water and clouds

and the other showcased

buildings and little shanties.

She watched as huge pink clouds

rested on the pale blue surface;

she looked upon

the fishermen and boats.



                                                                              

And she felt

the world was a big world

bigger than she'd ever know.

it’s okay i’ll be
a different me when
tomorrow comes

i’m turning a year older

and here’s to hoping
that the extra number
will mean i’m stronger;
that 40-odd push-ups
won’t make my muscles
ache for much longer

and a shoutout to my blind spot
the weakest muscle
according to my calculations
that it quickens its palpitations
when a boy smiles

but i’m turning fifteen in
fifteen days and in
fifteen ways i will always
be alone

on my own two feet

but here’s to hoping you will
hold my hand and
be a receptacle of hugs
and tired sighs and puppy eyes
that die

i will be 15 and my heart has been
torn since 13.
i will never
get tired of fixing it up
i will never
give myself up

young but not that young
and old
old, old, old

my hands are threaded thickly
with veins
and my eyes are shrouded
with thick lenses
but there is no wall between me and the world
and the thinnest of spaces between
our shoulders
my heart is protected by a plastic bubble

but this will be the year i swim the sea

to give it all my tears
to let the salt in all my wounds
to feel the pain
to know i’m stronger

to not let anything hinder me

loud music, karaoke,
barbecue on the balcony,
smirnoffs and local beers,

zoom in on me holding
the mic, trying to have
a good time.

watch as everyone
loses themselves or falls
apart, some into laughter,

others into tears. it's time
to leave and i'm wondering
why do boys only call me

pretty when they're drunk?
they wrap their arms around
me and whisper in my ear,

tell me i'm special when
i've never felt less. it's hard
to be believable with alcohol

on your breath. so i just fall
into bed, more alone than
exhausted.

12:34 AM  — *I scream “I love myself” over and over in my head, whisper “I don’t need you,” even as my eyes are drawn to my slim wrists and I think about how mirrors are glass, and, oh, what I could do with the shards.

listening to mr brightside feeling really tired
what can i do when we’re falling apart at the seams
again? with loud sighs, collapsing into beds. rag dolls
dancing, in fading yellow light. lying in the dark,
staring at our reflections
in black windows, what are we
coming to. it’ll be okay as long as—in your eyes: me,
in my hands: you. are we just pretending we don’t feel lonely?
i;m scared. you took your needle and your thread and you put it through
my little finger, ‘pinkie promise’ you whispered
ghost from a future nightmare, i’m faithful to you.

08.23.13; 1 AM

And do you know, that night I went to bed thinking “What if four years from now I still like him?” The possibility haunts.

It’s been a year and fortysome poems since you. It’s been fiftysome conversations that I wasn’t the one to start. It’s been one birthday. And I carefully avoided greeting you.

You don’t know, you broke my heart. And then you made me trip over it. Maybe I bumped my head and got confused. Maybe I’m still on my knees, picking up pieces. Forty poems since you and only three were written without thought of you; you stained my fingers and you’re always seeping out. Fifty conversations which you began, but you’re always ending them; maybe I still want a thousand more.

I didn’t greet you because you greeted me late… Do you know, that hurt, but I almost understand now that you don’t care. And I cried a lot because you don’t care. I am so stupid though, because, I do. I miss you.

my first love
he kissed the hickeys and the bruises and all the parts of me that only he had ever touched and said, this makes you mine.

my second love*
he taught me you can still feel pleasure when your heart is broken. pleasure so intense, i still dream about his hands on me sometimes. he knew me no further than my body, but,* oh god, *he knew my body.

i.
I live too close to the ground to want to fall
on the front porch steps of reality,
there isn't much jumping
just as well
you pull me up on my tiptoes
and I feel like I'm teetering
forgetting the distinction
between your heartbeat and mine

ii.
please come down
your voice is soft
and mine is loud but
I can't hear you from the clouds

iii.
I should have known better than
to love the boy who towered over me
your life is dancing on rooftops
and climbing up staircases
and

iv.
I was the ground you barely even walked on

all i know of debt
is that my sins have
been paid for

and guilt
is a heavy burden

when i look
at my empty hands,
i do not know
what to give back

when i look
at the world, i marvel
at the magnitude
of what i owe

so much so
that i kneel

before you
and forget
how to stand

If it takes a fool to fall in love
What kind of fool would I require
And who would take me
When I've fallen
A thousand times over
For boys who've never known me

If there is to be anyone
He would have to take tea, with me
At three in the morning
For no reason at all
Except I wanted to be awake
To hear the silence

If there is to be anyone
He would have to put up with
The fact of my poems
He'd have to breathe
In the air of my sadness
And accept that I cry every other night
And would sometimes ask him
Not to hold me

If there is to be anyone
I do not know
But that would be foolish indeed
Sometimes I would tell him I love him
Sometimes I wouldn't

But I would always be
Humming with the melody
I associate with him,
And the stars
Would litter the sky
Like they glitter on his skin.

maybe words come out better on paper

it's been a while and I haven't figured out
what to say
and how exactly to say it

but maybe words would come out better
when gates are unlocked
and your heart left open

for whispers and quiet little songs
to come in

maybe if you let the words stain your skin

maybe if you stop hiding the tears
and look up at me
into my eyes

maybe when I tell you I love you
you'll believe me

11.09.13; 11 PM

I just want to make up for all the good I haven’t done and whatever bad I did do while trying to be happy, then I want to disappear. I wish no one would ever have to feel this alone.

When I go, I will find it.

There is nothing to forgive. Things will be better from now on.

(prologue.)

The night was so full of stars that it seemed to hold all the universe. But she knew it didn’t. He did. They walked on a moonlit meadow up above the world and he was a pretty boy and she was empty of breath, all bright eyes and no substance.

If he opened his mouth, galaxies would come spilling out and she would lap it up for want of something in her system, and realize only too late the existence of voids, the presence of black holes. That in all good, there is something not-so. And in all bad, there is reason to laugh.

With his gait graceful and her gaze far, if the observer were to stand on a hill across, they would make for lovely twin fairies. But their footsteps are heavy: feet mired in gravity and carrying weight, heads and minds suspended like heavenly bodies, hearts studded with stars that shine like heaven and burn like hell. Yes, their footsteps are too heavy and everything is real.

                                                                                          
Or is it? This night and this sky—whatever it may be, magnificence or disappointment—does not hold all the universe.

                                                                                                                      
(i.)

The wind rustled the leaves of a nearby tree and the grass came to softly tickle their feet. He was looking hard at her with his soft eyes but saying nothing. She sighed, avoided his gaze, and asked a bit wearily, “What is it? Why the silence?”

“I’m trying to show you,” he said patiently. “You listen to too much music to know that this is magic.” The pale skin of his eyelids closed themselves against his bright green eyes. He stretched out on the grass beside her slumped form and when he was there, felt for where her hand lay, absently pulling at a blade of grass. He ran his thumb along the back of it and said, “I’ll tell you what I’m thinking. The trees, the leaves, the grass, and the wind. The sight of you. The sight of you against the sky. The twinkling silence of a breath being held and the heartbeat that quickens and the stars that give their light just a bit brighter before the second ends. It could last for hours, you know, but when it’s gone, it’ll always feel like just a second.” Her left hand felt cool where his hand had stopped being present. She began to pull at another poor blade of grass. He’d turned to look at her, her back still to him, against which her hair lay, long, a little black mixed in with the colors of the night. “We’ll never have this moment again. You know.”

i'd drive you wherever you want to go, take you out to see sunsets on the open road. bring along your favorite blanket, wrap you in it. start the car and keep going until the gas runs out.

glance over at you, with the wind blowing your hair in your face. my heart skips beats and starts to dance. you look so beautiful and calm. my soul has always ached for yours.

we're stuck at the side of the road, and you laugh, and it's like the first time i've ever heard that. you step out with your bare shoulders and feet, pull me out from the driver's side, and onto the hood of the car.

we sit there comfortably, looking up at the stars. you rest your head against my chest; our bodies are close and i can feel you breathing. i remember the first time we ever dreamed together, how eventually we realized what we wanted was each other.

i let you rest against me like that, thinking you're like one of those precious stars, twinkling above us. i saw how you shined and i swore i'd always protect that light; your bright, iridescent soul.

the world gets dark for everybody
i’ve been realizing that these past couple of nights,
walking across the football field, getting into the car,
on the way home.

but since you entered my life,
just this wednesday,
and we’ve been talking and laughing
in the bright kitchen,
sharing apples past midnight,
like we’re not tired of the world,

i realized that i was wrong.

for some people, the lights stay on.

if your heart is filling up
like cherry blossoms would
litter up streets,
if you're smiling so wide
and laughing so big,
don't do it

if you're floating and flying and
cartwheeling through
days in a daze,
if you're grinning at the mirror
while putting your hair in place,
don't do it

if the stars are shining for you and
your love,
if your heart is a song and
the breeze is filled with
melodies, wait

wait for all of it to settle down and
well, don't do it
(when I told him I liked
him, we never spoke again)

My mind is active, weighing words
Movements stilled by my fingers
No time to write of being tired
To describe the ache, instead of wish it away
What a waste
No one listens in the first place

Gold at my fingertips from all the time I've spent digging
But everyone always sees the mud first
Frustrations building up until
I'm stuck in avoidance mode

Vanishing into pillows and behind books
And fake smiles, it's so hard to be true
Not worth the effort too
When no one really cares about you

It turns out I can't commit
And I can't take stress
I'd like to pack up my bags and leave
Everything difficult behind

I want to hide under the bed and wait
For someone to take
My troubles away.

"love? I don't
believe in love"
I say this a hundred times,
hoping it gets stuck like
the stain on your favorite shirt
you just can't remove
you eventually learn to look good
in it, to wear it
like it could only belong to you

that people would believe that.
that you could just leave
old selves behind.
that the moon and the stars will
be rocks and fire and gases
instead of a promise
instead of a dream
and a life built on a dream
and a whispered "it's okay"
the stars say "what is a stain on a shirt,
when love is love?"

"love? I don't
believe in love"
I say this a thousand times
because I need
more convincing

*"pain, pain, pain."

she had a lot of things to say

but no one to say them to



so she kept them in paper stars

in rolled-up pieces of paper

in notebooks with pressed flowers



she planted them with every tree she touched

the songs she sung that the wind stole



once she even scribbled on a wall



she wrote on herself

in ballpoint pen

in razor blades or scissors

            

no one heard her words

like

no one heard her tears

and

no one heard her fall

like the lone flowerbush that stood beside trees

she is pretty but she is weak

and when everyone stops falling at her feet

her turn to fall and disappear

a person is
his silhouette
crooked teeth
or not-
beautiful is beautiful

a man is the outer
edges of his soul
the crinkles around his
eyes
the corner of his
smile

a man is what lies
at the tips of his
fingers
what’s falling out
of his pockets
what extends into
where the eye cannot see-

the heart,
          is the man

the man,
          is the heart

it is what it is
        what we are

beautiful is beautiful

some people are loved so deeply
some people hear those words
everyday
some people know they're never alone

how did god decide
the division of souls
and destinies, and which hearts
were to break, and which hearts
were to shatter

some people have broken families
some people know
everyone's too busy to wipe away these tears
too busy to care
to be there
some people feel so small

how did god decide some of us
would have to find comfort in the stars'
tiny lights, some of us
are hugged as if they'd never be
let go
and some of us aren't

and I know, I know
that everyone cries
but not everyone cries every
night

and why isn't everyone loved?
****
why isn't everyone loved?

i glance out of car windows

sometimes into people’s eyes

don’t we all?

stares that were felt but left unreturned

words heard

answered with a smile and left behind

in the wake of quick fading footsteps

and often I wonder

if I’ve missed what I’m looking for

or if something else worth finding

was ignored

and with every bad decision

that i seem to have made

i pray for my soul

i don’t want to be alone

and sometimes the air feels different

and i look around

i look around

i look around

everybody else is in the ocean
forgetting how to breathe.

if you're looking to drown me,
tell me you love me,
and i'll follow you down.

or tell me about how the fishes
glow, invite me
to dive.

i'm trying to lose myself
and you, in the process.

everything is so blue now.

we could go deeper and revel
in inky blackness, around us.

to wrap ourselves in it
and disappear completely.

every part of me
wants to get away from me
every part of me knows
I don't like me
and every part of me
wants something else to hold

I pull the pink flowers

From the mass of black hair

And they fall to my hands

As I release a breath



                                                                              

I shrug off your shining words

And the glow of your eyes

As I shut myself away

Again, the world

In the deadness of mine



                                                                                            

It's hard to believe in

Anything

When nothing and

No one ever stays

I am always left dark and gray

Or brown at the edges and

Fading, crushed



                                                                  

Like the flowers in the palm of my hands

my mom wants me to take iron

'cause i've been staring into space alot

and i don't smile as much anymore

and i appear "lifeless"

she doesn't know i'm just growing up

and growing sad

i want to quickly fade away like

the flowers or the butterfly,

something inside

me is too beautiful to remain

in the world for long

yearns it to be free and



                                                                                          

something inside me

is ugly

ugly ugly ugly

and I don’t want the cotton on my skin

your eyes on me

your fingers inches away--

keep away!

              

                                            

i want to fade

And one night, she watched as her little cousin played with toy trains -- and she thought of this, and all the things she would miss, the regrets that would come after death if they could.

Her foot lands wobbly; shook before the last step. One tear fell, as she looked ahead, into blackness... And that tear was everything she ever loved, all the voices that told her to stop, all the reasons why she couldn't.

Then she fell, and was gone.

I got to see the sunrise from the skies

As in the company

of rolling clouds

I floated over sea

And the colors spoke to me

                                                                                                                  

                                                                                                                

Red at the bottom

for the love,

that was never missing after all;

a rather murky olive green-

the uncertain future;

right above yellow

which says we'll be okay;

with the blue

all around

because hope can be found

at the outer edges of the soul



                                                                                                              

because at 4 am

the dark surrounded the light

but at 5 am

the dark never existed

Hide me from the light; it hurts

Open up your heart and keep me there

Make your eyes my only mirror

And my soul, repair

once I lay in the field

and under gray skies

for once I did not cry

but as you lay there with me

I laughed



                                                                              

and I hope someone up there took

a photograph of that

and made it into a star

that every now and then

I might remember

that for once I forgot I'd grown up

and the world was made mine

again