The world seems so much bigger without you in the frame. But when I was in your arms, the world felt small, and you were my entire landscape. You were the entire book—the muse of my desires. Yet, when I shut my eyes and picture you in front of me, why can’t I recall what you looked like? It’s as if you never existed after all.
Your face keeps slipping away whenever I try to grasp the lover I once dreamt of—etched between death and indifference of innocence. You were once my favorite lullaby, but now it’s all disarrayed, never meant to be touched again.
Your eyes, a saturated warm hue of the earth—where an old house resides deep within—mapped all over the floor, etched in your skin.
As I close the gap in my eyes, I travel wordlessly from behind your ears until I reach my favorite destination—the soft, gentle place I once traveled upon in silence. As I close the space between the otherworldly, your lips, a faith I’d carry forever, hold a warmth I will bear to my grave.
The map will lead me to you. Let me explore the intricacies of each story etched in your skin—from small shadows quietly placed across your body to the muted, tiny traces of constellations.
And the way the wind reveres every strand of your hair, dancing flawlessly in the whisk of dawn; your eyes embrace a dark, long, fiery gaze.
Scrutinizing my already flawed hands—I reached for the stars, and you left me with nothing but the wonders of the world,
etched just seamlessly in your skin.
The earth once revered your name. I once kissed the ground that birthed you, yet when I try to remember, all that remains is the ghost that haunts my fragile heart—leaving me nothing but estrangement. Etched deep in my skin. Burning holes within as I keep on remembering,
to remember,
to remember.
this poem is supposed to be disjointed, disconnected, and messy. it wasn’t written to be understood, to be criticized. it was meant to be felt. how longing can destroy one’s point of view. how remembering is supposed to be heard, not read in a structural way.
guess this month, I’m feeling unmoored.
songs you can listen to while you read this piece:
my tears ricochet - taylor swift
about you - the 1975