in a parallel universe,
together-- you and i
we get high.
-
you and me
we're meant to be
in some other reality
-
my deepest secret is this
the long gone bliss
that I'll forever miss
is your gentle kiss
-
in another world's dimension
without any hesitation
me and you
we made it through

And I,
for the first time
in a very long time,
heard the birds sing
and felt the wind against my face
and only had one thought:
"This life is so beautiful."

And I,
for the first time
in a very long time,
allowed myself to breathe
and let go of my worries.
And I looked up at the sky
and it was so clear.

Clearly I,
for the first time
in a very long time,
loved myself
and chose myself
again.

this is for you
•if you're still learning to love yourself
•if you have no idea why people choose you
•if you are anxious and overwhelmed because they said everything's gonna be okay but it just doesn't feel that way

-------
My mama said,
"Do not give them everything. Leave some for yourself. Do not give a hundred per cent so that if they break your heart, you are not left empty."

and so..

if I offer you only 50%
of the Love i have left to give
and keep the other 50%
so I can Love myself, too
will you still take it?
will that be enough?

if I put myself first
and then those I loved before I met you
and only then have time for you
will you still stand in line?
will you still say,
"I'm just happy you are mine?"

if you see all my scars
and my bruises that are still healing
will you still think me beautiful?
will you understand?

if my world starts to unfold
and you see the risk you are taking
for being crazy for staying
for being dumb for believing
in a future worth saving
will you still point forward
and show me the direction
towards
the house you've built for you and me
made of promises I've heard before
of dreams I've woken up to
of hope I have forgotten
and of Love that I no longer trust?

if the 50% you're getting means
the chaos and the mess of my past
and the tears you have to wipe away
and answering the same questions everyday
"do you still like me?"
"do you still want me?"
"are you still there?"
will you patiently say "yes"
over and over
until my anxiety is no longer
the the first thing I wake up to?

if I listen to my mama
(and this time I will)
will you take just the half I can offer
and make it your own
perhaps it'll grow bigger
like a seed that needs water
like a flower in the winter sun
waiting for spring to come
so that one day we won't have to
quantify how much I can Love you.

Oh how morose is this prose I penned in my solitude
How completely sullen the sudden waves of words I pieced together.
But how so? Why am I so endlessly sombre?
Is it just my innate self, or perhaps caused by another?

Truly, it's in the absence of constant and prolonged affliction
that I've begun to see the questions and flaws of my current situation
Oh how unfortunate it is to be awakened only at this later time
but time heals and I know, I know it shall heal this heart of mine.

done with the violence
done with the pain
done with the same shame
over and
over and over
again

done with the accusations
and the suspicions
done with the same lies
in different forms
and messed up versions

today you said you're sorry
you said you love me
you always will
but who knew a love like this
could somehow ****
the passion
the trust
the ways that I
thought I knew you
were loving me the same way
I did
with my whole heart and
my whole life

my whole life
is unrecognisable and I
can barely tell which truth to believe in
because how can you ever deceive
someone who stopped their heart beating
for you
how can you destroy someone who
took you in their arms and
went ahead and said,
"stay here, you belong in the home
inside my heart
I built only for you."

done with late night crying
finding myself imagining dying
as a way out, an escape
done with blaming you or me
for the choices I keep on making
done punishing
myself for the mistakes
that you made
because I made the same mistakes too
as if the path to forgiveness is repeating
the ways we've hurt each other hoping
it will just stop to hurt
at some point

it's like you and I
Or mostly I
have to tiptoe around landmines
Afraid I'll discover more crimes
afraid I'll be in the wrong place at the wrong time and
careful I don't set off the time bomb
that is called Our Relationship

when heartbroken poets make metaphors
about wounds and battle scars
I wonder where mine are
because I've been through this same war
fought it and won it and lost it
for years and years on repeat
and yet I have no marks to prove it
so maybe not every victory is a celebration
and not every survival is the ending of the story
and not every abuse leaves a bruise
and here I am still writing
wondering about my own story's ending