truly, I miss the little space in the back of my mind
that conjures up an alternate reality,
entirely authentic and entirely mine
a land of complete serenity and ease
just me, myself and I.

truly, I miss the numbing sand and the velvety waves,
the rolls of light winds and silky leaves
that blanket me with an independent security
where I rely only on myself,
me myself and I.

I miss escaping from the anguish this sombre world carries,
brimming with suffering, agony, and misery,
my world has its adequate share of darkness
where I’m allowed to conceal and grieve,
but never, ever, cry.

I miss the place where my aspirations are actuality
and the truth simply misleading fantasies,
where the gravest form of torment emerges only
from my own reflections and contemplations
of merging the two incompatible ends together.

truly, I miss the ****** up space at the back of my mind
that desensitizes me from feelings I have yet to feel
by placing a cynical perspective on everything,
an all-inclusive, defensive armour
for me myself and I.

if existence is merely an illusionary veil across our lids
then the inner euphoria that comes with this deception
must merely be a vindication of a life well-lived,
a life well-deceived.

if the misery and despair that drove the slits on my wrist
were simply drifting facades, simply an imitation of tangible grief
then which part of my suffering am I supposed to believe
was a concrete part of the life
I assumed that I lived.

if so,
why do we plainly disregard the ticking clock set upon our souls
the unrelenting countdown to our demise,
and commence the futile cycle of attaining earthly affluence
too worthless to transport into the abyss
that charters all that you believed.

what if the breeze brushes your final flame
and no god exists to magistrate your sins
and solely the predicament of non-existence
occupies the nullity of your fading essence.

then is living truly a desolate state
with a hopeless beginning and an unavailing end,
and just the perpetual succession
of a life fully, entirely, deceived.

Every girl in the kingdom followed her steps,
the way a cub learns to roar when his father bites a neck.
A child from the cold end was asked to reign the throne
by a gold hand. The cost veiled against the velvet curtains,
she was deceived to say yes.

How beautiful, they whisper, sight of rosy cheeks
and soft hair, gems carved into the hem of her dress.
She won’t disclose the violet lesions on her body
after having pledged her loyalty to the blue-eyed darkness
seated on the high throne.

If braids mark beauty, and bruises mark people,
does abuse mark love? The maiden moved the brush gently
through the delicate auburn waves. Better to stay silent,
or the king will have your head. The maiden denied,
grace breeding reason.

The queen wore her crown and directed her knights
to rise. Outside the walls she was glorified whole,
a display of the elite. Inside the castle her command dissolved,
auburn braids ripped off and scattered. After all, the kingdom so desires
a formidable king for power.

bed sheets spread and suitcases zipped shut
holding the best of our things, the ones closest
to the heart.

my laptop prepares for a week between rooms
where I laugh in one and drink in the other
while I write about you.

I greet the long empty roads to the airport
and my navigation congratulates a new
distance that we’ve shared.

with (not so) hidden anticipation and
a fresh wave of timidness as my arms
link behind your neck once again.

so we start all over, building caresses
and conversations, lightly once again
to ignite the covered flame.

my nose forgets the gripping scent you bring
that fills my head with a pain your
searching fingers can’t locate.  

your love for books and the details of your eyes
got lost between the texts and calls
from my drunk dialings to yours.

it’s harder each time to let your hand go
and release your body from mine, not knowing
when will be the next.

I never cry sober but when you boarded
the plane, the crucial drive back home
met my tears along the way.

the borderspace between our two lands
force a distance that disappears the moment
I remember the 8am smile on your face.