in my little desert
under the desert sky
i built you a little home
out of my bones

i fed you tea and fresh bread
which i always made myself
just for you
keeping you alive delicately
always scurrying gathering
things which you love
to nourish your soul

i built a golden shrine for you
it was between my succulents
on my windowsill

sometimes the words are in another world
and you do not love them as much
they do not call for you
sometimes the poems are just clay
they do not form anything but clay
only clay

on the good days, they become the words
that call to you, and you take the words
from their worlds
and use them to articulate yours,

somedays they form in your sleep
and in the morning
you remember and write,
them,
in the mundane notebook
that you have chosen,
anointed to write the words,
the paper that holds them in this world.

you bring the words into meanings more beautiful together
than echoing alone
in their own separate worlds.

feelings that stick to the roof of my rib cage
like stubborn peanut butter
I attempt to loosen with distractions from you
I go running or maybe more walking
I try to run to dislodge these thoughts
maybe I run to become something new
something unknown to you
distant and foreign, unfamiliar

what I really need is to learn a new language
so that it can take up all the space in my brain
cramp you out
I need some time reading a confusing book
so I have less time to remember

these days you're everywhere obtrusively
I am trying to shut you out and forget
I fail and I remember, hopelessly.

all but one recurring hope, I keep.
I hope you think of me -
because I am always thinking of you.

I am a structure
I am waves of emotions (mine are fleeting)
I am a house of thoughts and ideas and colours
(all of my favourite colours)

I am a person
I am organic matter
I am sometimes gold, sometimes colourless (but to be gold is my favourite)

I am both here now and there then (in my memories)
I am a book of all the people I have been (even if only for a second)
I am brave sometimes, other times only breathing

I am a sea of moments that have made me
I am replaying, remembering them always
I am reshaping all the time.

Here I am
Here you were
And I should have said something beautiful to you
because you are beautiful
I should have said something sage and wise but not too heavy
I should have at least given you some words to keep,
since we both knew you couldn't stay.

Should have said something
Should have told you
I have thought of you everyday, I visit your beautiful shy smile from that first night we met
How I wanted to smoke all of the cigarettes you rolled just because you rolled them, even though I try not to inhale
How your hair your eyes your words made my heart dance
You are a piece of art you're rare you're precious metals
I want to love you, want to know you, want to know you, want to listen to whatever you have to say
I want to see everything that you want to show me,
I think of you everyday still.

I'm thinking of you right now

leaving a place is heavy
as heavy as carrying an ocean of memories
you do not know which to leave behind
so you keep them all-
every single memory
of you.

warm salt water
runs down my cheeks
onto my chin
and drips away.

One tear drop at a time,
I remember
I hold onto
I want to dive into
our time, us,
backwards.

Something comes loose inside,
gives way to a tide that has been dormant,
every emotion
that you gave me
comes alive

The familiarity and yet strangeness
breaks me into pieces.
I fall apart,
crumbling into cascading.

sometimes i drink tea as a substitute for your hugs
almost desperately sipping,
wishing, hoping,
dreaming of you (holding onto my ceramic cup so delicate)

sometimes loneliness creeps in like a stealth burglar
when you realize what it is you freeze,
suddenly too aware of yourself
but pretending it doesn't exist to cushion yourself from
these ugly emotions
who, like old fake friends whom i try to alienate,
i hide from, trying to mask myself by emulating
everything i love

in the hopes of becoming something beautiful,
something you might love.
(pour myself another cup,
dream on)

I think I want to believe in people
And the magic that our bones hold,
We are brittle but we breathe
I have taken breath day in and day out
I don’t know how.

I think I want to believe in humanity
And the togetherness of bonding over our most obvious shared physicality
We are human.

here i sit and memories swarm out in front of me
unwinding moments which come undone
they have been tucked away tightly
until now

i pick up scents of have-beens
i close my eyelids and i remember
i dance with you again in yesterdays of the past
reminiscing is sweet

sometimes i dream of the past
i try and tell you all the yearnings of my heart
with my eyes
try to warn of the tragedy that is inevitable

at the end of these wandering golden dreams
which only last for seconds
you look at me one last time,
i try to hold your beautiful hand,
try to keep you with me longer,
you tell me with your eyes
and i hear you
i can hear you leaving me
all over again

my hands are made of natural things
maybe i am only blood and bones
made to last only shortly
quickly slowly dying

all the colours of the world won't fill me
I long for emotions of gold
for an ice cold ocean
raindrops to break the cycle

searching for your earrings on his earlobes
memories embroidered everywhere
on my walls are pictures and meanings
I try to nurture flowers from my flesh

maybe I should stop writing poetry for you anyway
you don't get my symbols
no matter how obvious the metaphors
your ears will not listen.

You're my moon.

my tea has gone sour overnight
the stars must have mixed with milk
dreams dancing into my two white pillows
why does night slip away so suddenly

tones of sadness find me early morning
I try to unsap my fatigue and fall
stumbling into the room where we keep our food
which keeps us alive

sip my new fresh tea from my country
red and warm and hugging
I miss the accents of my land
craving something familiar (like you) but not

maybe we are all so incurably alone
spinning around this globe individually
unstoppable in solidarity
maybe this was how it was meant to be.

hoping for the day when i am sitting on the floor
sipping my tea and looking up at the windows
when the sun rays fall down onto me
and warm my skin
i am hoping for the day when i will wake up and have forgotten
i am waiting for the day when i will feel the sun again.

today i saw a row of schoolchildren at an airport
observing the beehive from the outside
they have never touched the skyline
they have never been inside
they live on the outskirts of this city
their lives are a contrast to mine

i could see the wonder painted on their faces
they were dreaming
in their private minds
they had become more than school children  
they were a part of the city
they had a seat on the plane

I think I may have left
A few of my vital organs with you
(Or maybe since you left them they forgot how to function)
Or something.

Because suddenly I'm aware of my breathing,
My heart has developed an arrhythmia,
I have to tell myself to keep blinking, circulating, left foot right foot.
I forget what to think.
(How do I take my tea?)

My mind jumps, and wanders... what are you doing now... at this second...your beautiful hands...

I stop, collect myself, gather my bones.
Breathing slowly becomes a rhythm again,
For now.