gd - Hello Poetry

gd Jan 2016

Do you remember
when we carved our names into that old wooden desk
and you kissed me while I scraped at the surface
as if we were going to last like the promise I engraved into that table.

A shame we didn't.
And even more of a disappointment it was to not see it coming
and yet you latched onto every single neuron in my mind,
engraving your own initials with the same blue pen.

Numb as a needle,
I can still feel the letters scaring over.
They'll stay there forever,
even though you didn't.

gd

{dated: 05-05-2015}

gd Aug 2015

Lemonade.

There's something so peaceful
about being intertwined within
the arms of the person you love.

There's an effortless simplicity
that I can't quite put a finger on,
but it leaves me breathless and
in total awe, trapped beneath all
the emotions laced between all
our endeavours.

Just as staring in silence,
no movements
—just this unexplainable static that vibrates between our fingers—
captivates the inner part of my soul.

Because I don't know how
to determine the trademarks
of a soulmate, but if it's anything like this
—if its passion races through your mind like rapids,
if the multitude of love circulates cosmos throughout the universe of your mind,
if it is destined to leave you with nothing less than utmost fascination,
if it numbs your heart but fuels the life within your spirit—
it has to be real.

I am at peace in the noisiest states,
and I am connected by this promise
I make to you.

gd

{we locked our love with concrete in between all the brick walls}

gd Aug 2015

Fine.

It has been six months exactly
since you turned around and
never looked back and as a
tribute I, unknowingly, deleted
every single trace of you.

Every piece of your features
appeared on the screen before
me, and then vanished in an
instance as if none of those things
happened in the first place.

I'll find photos of myself in a lot
of places I used to go, and every
single one looks as if I was caught
by some secret photographer
hiding behind a camera but never
being able to stand in front of it.

You became a ghost, mimicking
the sentiments you no longer had.

Yet here I am, six months later, a
little stronger whilst a little bitter
for the better. My heart feels whole,
enclosed by some unsettling smoke,
but no longer swallowed by an
unforgiving blaze.

And for the first time in a long time,
I can confess that
I am
fine.

gd

gd Jul 2015

Liar, liar!

I would be lying if I said
it didn't bother me that you were smiling
because of someone else's sunlight.

I would be lying if I said
that my heart never pulls apart
whenever I catch you in places I thought you wouldn't be.

And I would be lying if I said
I was over you choosing fear
over me.

See, the thing is, I thought I would never see you again.
I thought the second you walked out my door
would be the last time I'd see your eyes.

Yet, yesterday ironically, ours locked like two metal puzzle pieces
and the clashing of steel left ringing in my ears
and sparks flying out of my sanity.

I don't know what it is about you.
There's this sort of unexplainable heat
on the rims of your gaze that leaves a sort of branding.

And every single time your aura enters the room, I feel like the walls
are closing in on my mind, bring me down dark narrow paths
whose light you blew out whilst dousing the flames of my heart.

And maybe it's the thought of you
becoming everything I would've wanted you to be
that leaves me biting my tongue full of envy.

Because I would be lying if I told you
I was proud that all it took was the elimination of me
to make you happy.

gd

{a year ago was so different}

gd Jul 2015

Play of Promises.

I.
You were supposed to last. And I think this very statement is the reason for the sudden pangs of pain in my heart.

II.
I am a ticking time bomb, and even the thought of your name—the slow rhythmic articulation from that first letter to the last—is causing an eerie, yet familiar, squeeze on my heart. And I'm pinching myself in every single place that you touched as an attempt to make myself aware that you're never going to touch those place again. But I'm tired, Love. I'm tired of having to pinch myself every single day just as a reminder that your were real. Were. And for the past couple weeks, I thought I had it all together, soaring over the mourning only for it to come knocking at my door with every memory you managed to leave me breathless with.

III.
But don't be fooled by time. Time doesn't heal anything. If anything, it is only a master of torture: playing around with your efforts at forgetting, then flaunts all the promises you ever made in front of your face just so it can film your features when it shreds it to pieces. Time does nothing for you. And at this point, I'm afraid it's using up every muscle and nerve in my body not to pick up the phone and tell you I'm willing to settle.

IV.
You were the best thing for me; that just doesn't leave! It doesn't walk out the door or tells you you're gonna find someone great. It doesn't break up with you as you're on the ground in tears. It doesn't kiss you with sincerity and then never even looks back. It doesn't shatter your heart, your poor glass heart with a boulder and then make you watch as the shards are ground to grains. It doesn't leave you, not like that. And it for sure doesn't linger. It doesn't stick around because it shouldn't have to.

V.
It doesn't ask to be in your life even after it cuts the wound. Because it's supposed to last. You were supposed to last.

gd

{dated: March 9, 2015 | for B}

gd Jun 2015

Scars.

Sometimes you meet people that you grow to love.
And then other times, you cross paths with some
that just click with your senses;
heighten your emotions so high everything else seems to disappear.

But beware of those who just snap into place
for they will inject their venom
into the depths of your heart
and leave skid marks on the surface.

They will plaster your atriums with Picasso murals
and sheet music from Bach
only to cover the walls with kerosene
and burn it to the ground for the sole soul-wrenching sake of "art".

And that's okay, you will live on.

But there will still be scars at the entrance sites from every drop of poison.
There will still be scars from the train tracks he carved
from the bat of his eyes and the pucker of his lips.
There will still be scars from the blaze

because when fire burns it does so
passionately
carelessly
wonderfully with furiosity

And you will find pieces of clay under different piles of ash;
You will find treble clefs and fermatas
hidden under every ember that was left to die.
You will still find beauty in the destruction.

And maybe it's still okay to admire the ruins,
even just for a little while.

gd

{"if someone makes you feel, let them"}

gd May 2015

That's for sure.

I'm trying to mine for gold under all this rock
solid ornaments of disarrayed desires. And I
am having trouble coming to terms with how
I've been flipped upside down one hundred &
eighty degrees without a single warning; not
a single foreshadow from my past personas.

And I cannot even piece this puzzle without
finding a couple lost causes stuffed under beds
and old covers that hid everything else I could
never really come to terms with, face-to-face,
unable to find the solid grace. And I can already
imagine him trying to impress you—flirting with
ease. And you fall for it every single time, love,
because your heart is caught on the inside of your
sleeves.

gd

{ended up where I didn't expect to; ended up where I was meant to}