Associated with Death

Most of my life,
Death has been interested in me.

Like a crush teasing you
Just letting you know it's there.

A new song you put on repeat
Because it resonates in your soul.

It would disappear in the bad times,
Take hold in the good.

A stranger.
A best friend.

I'll be associated with death
The rest of my life

Because I decided once
It was time to die.

does it hurt you that we don't talk anymore?
that I am now a passing stranger on the street?
it doesn't hurt me.... because you did that enough.
deep inside I know I will never love again
will never be able to give my heart away to another stranger
you were what was supposed to be the better part of me
and now I can't even imaging feeling another ones touch.
I really hoped I never had to know this feeling
you told me you loved me under the moon with the stars so bright not so long ago
and I believed you.
I thought the sun would shine again....
but I will never love again.

You are the warmth in the serenity I never drank,
the final page of a novel I hold off reading
just to stretch the story one more night.
You are the lullaby I hummed when I forgot the lyrics
but remember the ache.

I think I’ve been writing to you in everything—
in the way I halt at fullstops
Because I'm afraid
there's always an end from a beginning
I do not know the color of your eyes,
but I know how they’ll light up when you speak of things you love.
I haven’t felt your hand in mine,
but I know how I’ll memorize the curve of your thumb
like it’s punctuation—
a comma in the sentence of my life
that says: pause here. something beautiful is coming.

If you’re wondering,
yes—
I’ve saved you all the best lines.
The ones that never made it into poems
because they were too soft, too sacred, too soon.
They live folded in my chest
like notes passed under desks in classrooms of longing.
I don’t send them,
because I want to give them to you in person—
when we are older,
and ready,
and brave enough to admit we were always meant to find each other
in a world full of almosts.

And when you arrive—
with your quiet eyes and your laugh that tastes like home,
don’t be surprised if I cry.
Not because I am sad,
but because it is a kind of grief
to wait so long for a face you already loved
in every stranger that almost looked like you.

To you, whom I haven’t met yet—
come slowly,
but come.
This heart has been keeping time in poetry,
and every line
has always led me to you.


Erennwrites

life goes by
your life goes by
we will move on
you moved on
we will forget each other
you forgot about me
gonna lose each other
you left me
we are stranger now
but you're not stranger in my thoughts
in my heart
in my soul
you will still be here
in my memories
in my photo gallery
in my contacts
in my notes
in my drafts
i still call your name
call it unconsciously
i still read our massages
read it unconsciously
i miss you
but i will heal
one day
some day
i will

~
It's strange to miss a stranger.
~~

I am a poetic heart that wants to speak in prose – about the pros
and cons about being in love, or being alone. But don't you go
tripping on your words; you might just fall in love tonight. And
I know her girlfriend is going to preach to me tonight, and I might
just listen to avoid another fight.

She knows I've got a contraband of controversial thoughts, and I
wonder if I ever manage to cross the border, will I find my mouth?
While closing my eyes to the sun— the horizon never felt so dark!
But if we cross swords to spar, could we eventually make a spark?

But when your tears are burning in my hands; which blisters do I
call my scars, while losing the bite for time; like all the missing teeth
you find on the floor of popular bars.

I look in the mirror, and it still asks me who I am; whether or not
I'll choose to follow old plans — should the white in my eyes look
at all the things I like, and conquer those lands? But my black dots
are still slaved to themselves; when we seem to be strangers to
ourselves. I still shut my eyes when I look at myself!

I'm a ghost, an empty shell, a stranger amongst flesh
I walk the certain way, contrary, unseen and unheard
Flesh seems unaware of me and my way and walk away
My voice wordlessly soundless and my touch the wind
Spirit and flesh have no fellowship and union, futility

I see the sighted unseeing, stumbling, falling, smiling
Without truth confident the next step is never void
Every fall is knowledge every bone broken is growth
Till the last fall then to sleep eternal, life's done
Without fear, without regrets, for what else is life?