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24
Tsunami Sep 2020
24
Sometimes
The only thing keeping us alive
Is who will find our body
At the end of it
happy birthday to me i guess
Tsunami Apr 2020
A half burnt smoke never tastes the same
As an un-lit cigarette.
It’s the same with love.

We can never tumble back in time to;
Happy nights nuzzling in bed,
Clandestine kisses on the dock at midnight,
Drinking in glorious sunsets and city lights.
As if we could ever pretend that the world was perfect.

We can never dance back into;
Long car rides to Victoria,
Drunk laughs in the rain,
Late night cuddles on the couch
Playing video games to our hearts content.

In all honesty, I don’t need to live in the past
I like smoking full cigarettes to make them last.
u put ur heartbreak into one
Tsunami Jan 2018
Time is a human construct.
It will spill numbers on the floor,
Whilst it slips its fragile hands around your throat.
Choking you out,
Until breathing becomes more of a chore than reality.
Until it feels like you’re drowning from the carbon dioxide swimming in your veins.

The clock is the home that stutters away when you get to close.
It’s the boy who tells you he loves you,
And then never calls.
It’s the sound of your ribs snapping in half,
Simultaneously filling your lungs with ambrosia.
So that when you take your final breath,
Time will be there to remind you that no matter what,
You were never ******* enough nor ever really there.

Time is the intruder that breaks in
Steals your youth, your drive, your ******* life.
Erasing you slowly,
As I’ve done to every minute since I saw the universe in your eyes.

But, god, what would we do without time,
How would we subsist without measuring cosmos in our hands?
How am I supposed to live without the warmth of your body next to mine?
Tsunami Jan 2018
I carry a coat
Filled with my past
Its has old notes
Scrawled across like signatures on a cast

I have spirits living in the pockets
Demons sinking in through moth eaten holes
They whisper your name in sonnets
Convey and disclose

This cloak
Is ancient
Is heavy
The apparitions do nothing but reminisce

Mummi despised
wearing clothing belonging to the deceased
“It is bad luck to not let bhoots subside”
She spoke at me
Rather than directly to her beti
But what of the ghosts I am forced to wear mother?
When will they leave?
Beti= daughter
Bhoot = ghost
Tsunami Apr 2018
6 weeks
and I still want to wash my body
In bleach.
Go over each inch,
With a bristle brush.
Watch my skin bleed.
Because no matter what I do
I can not get the taste of him
Out of my mouth,
Get rid of feeling
Him
Inside me.

Fingers touching my throat
My lips on his neck
I can't get rid of it.

Fifty one days
My soul is still too soft
Too soluble
For his liking.
My liquid gold
Can not fill the cracks in his soul
The jagged edges of his ribs.

Instead it slides down his body
My tongue follows
drip
     drip
          drip
We cool on uneven stones
slowly i get better but heres something
Tsunami Apr 2019
The last thing you said to me
“Don’t think, don’t think”
I failed quite spectacularly
That night.
I failed
Tsunami Dec 2018
Your mouth fumbles
When you call me baby
The word is foreign.
You are afraid.
A mouse caught in the gaze of a snake.
Will it slice your tongue if you say it too hard?
Or too soft?

It rolls up your throat
Pushes past your teeth with great strength
Awkward and sounding slightly out of breath
You mumble it between "hey' and "how are you"
Squished and small
Like it doesn't deserve recognition or even its own space.

You've wrapped it in fear
Hoping that if you say it nicely
Maybe somehow it will be less like a missile
Maybe this time it won't hurt.

It is exotic to that mouth of yours.
A rare commodity,
A precious rock we have to excavate
Our own romantic version of the sword in the stone
Tsunami Jun 2019
Everyone has an addiction.
Some, simpler than others.
Some, the worst things on earth.
But most of them,
Albeit all of them,
Are trying to numb something that tears them to shreds.
Tsunami Jul 2018
Sometimes when I miss someone
I feel it catch in my throat
Something between a whimper
More of a cough and a choke
Fireflies flutter in my pulmonary cavities
My ribs are the lantern
Caging my fatalities
As they burn from their expansions.
Igniting even the darkest of nights
They flicker off
One by one
i choke
her
Tsunami Mar 2018
her
The galaxy
The aurora borealis
The deep sea
It's what she's always been
Tsunami Apr 2020
I was a page in your book of life.
You were a whole chapter in mine.
Tsunami Feb 2018
One day,
I will write a book
He'll claim it is about him
“Why couldn't you get over me?”
“Why are you still stuck in the past? This was years (months, days, minutes) ago”.

I’ll say it's about how you made me feel,
How you left me.
How you broke me,
Then made me pick up the pieces.
How you ****** me,
Told me you loved me.
Choked identical words out of me.
Deserted me.

I wrote a book about loving someone despite everything he had done to me.
Encompassing me
Hurting me.
Not him.
hating someone is better
Tsunami May 2020
My body still searches for you
In a sea of bedsheets and stuffed animals.

I try to mimic the warmth of your arms around me.
I, once again, fail miserably...
Just like I did when you packed up and left.

My hands sleepily clasp at nothingness.
I am half asleep,
Just at the stage before waking up,
Desperately trying to find any semblance of you.

I was always told my insomnia was the reason for my lack of rest.
But what do we call it when I can not fall asleep without you beside me?
God I miss your body beside me, it was home if I ever had one
Tsunami Jul 2018
257 days.
For the first time,
I don't want to shower him off my skin.

No need to scrub;
Your lips leaving delicate traces,
Your hands entangled in my hair,

No need to rinse
Feeling you,
Sending shocks down my spine
Fingers brushing against skin
Electric impulses

No need to wash the memories of;
Bodies intwined
Kissing shoulders and sternums
(whatever has been left exposed)
this doesnt make sense
Tsunami Sep 2019
The creak of a door,
A sliver of light
Slips and illuminates the evergreen tops.

A sigh of relief echoes between our two walls.
I hear the flick of a lighter.
An orange glow appears.
Floating about an arms length away from a dark shadow mostly hidden
behind the evergreens i always complain of.

We end up mimicking each others actions
Swimmers in a line,
Diving in at the same time.
Synchronizing the timing of raising
our separate cigarettes to
our separate lips,

It’s a small solace,
Two strangers, simultaneously trying to **** themselves just a bit quicker
The only form of intimacy we know at this point in life.

Ash, take a drag, ash, take a drag
Rinse and repeat
The wash cycle is almost over
We puff away together
Until one of us tires or hits the ****.

I once again, hear;
The creak of a door,
A sliver of light illuminates the tight knit needles.
I hear a gentle slam,
In his own way, a goodnight
we have an intimacy no one can mimic
Tsunami Jan 2018
Maybe the way the curve of your spine fits into me is an indication
of how the earth meets the sea.
Frothing, frigid and free

Maybe the way our lips convene is an illustration
of a star being born
Colliding, rising, expanding
With every breath we whisper to each other
the wind caresses the mountains in such delicate manners

Maybe the way our eyes meet
searching for a long lost landmark
{Home at last,
or at least until tomorrow}
reveal the discovery of deeper mysteries
Cold, comforting, coalescent

Maybe the simplest brush of skin
brings earthquakes to our veins
Seeped with unspoken words
warmth and peril rolled in one

Maybe, just maybe, the first ****** between two lovers
is the modern tsunami,
a flood of pleasure, teeming with emotions and laughter

The rain that lulls us to sleep
is the same as the water that cascades down cracks and cliffs
Racing to meet her soulmate,
Salt water
Fresh water
Two hearts beat in solidarity
Melting one into the other
Tongue on tongue
Fingertip to fingertip

Maybe the way we started is the way we end,
with nothing but empty space and deafening silence.
Tsunami Mar 2018
I talk to the moon every night,
During my evening smoke break.
Bathed in moonlight,
I ache.

Her and I,
Waltzing around the subject of goodbye.
We parley.

The stars,
Inquire of my lonliness
As if my memoirs
were written anonymous

Whisper to the nebulous clouds
resembling smoke from my lit cigarette
nothing to make a sound
Looping over and over on a cassette
i know you hurt me and you think its funny but i still love you and i still miss you
Tsunami Apr 2020
Do you want to **** yourself,
or are you just bored?
Tsunami Mar 2018
the first time
i was 15
hands grabbed my budding *******
a warm breath on my neck

the second time
i was 18
he flipped me over
held me down
after he questioned why i bled

the third time
i was 21
he told me to be good
that he wanted me to make him proud
off came my shirt
forced my mouth to do things i didn't want

hands feel like boulders even now
/nothing ever changes/
tongues feel like battering rams
/i am estranged/
it's like i have a neon sign pointing at me
/i feel deranged/
saying "hurt me"
in flashing lights
the chances of being assaulted are doubled for victims. http://www.wavaw.ca/donate/
Tsunami Jan 2019
My hands trace rivers down his back
Soft silt streambeds
My tongue follows the waveforms of his hips
Warm skin with lazy currents
My ears feel your heartbeat resonate in your chest
Strong swells crash into stone cliffs
My lips taste honey and saltwater dripping from yours
A mix of dalliance and mischief
Our bodies meld into sea foam
making love is like making land
Tsunami Jan 2018
we explored
listened to rain on his windshield
watched the waves crash

when he drove me home
he held my hand
i kissed him at all the red lights
i dont know what it was but it was nice
Tsunami Apr 2019
Stop writing of people who don’t exist.

Stop reminiscing and reliving time.

Stop keeping them alive in parts of your soul.
stop!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
One
Tsunami Jan 4
One
He has constellations on his back
A galaxy of freckles and moles.
They map out our journey,
Star-crossed lovers forever.

He talks about the night sky.
Black holes and satellites and Jupiter’s various moons.
Awe glows on his face
His eyes dance.

Stardust covers every inch of him.
He speaks in theoretics and “what if’s”
A nebula waiting -

He does not realize,
He is the universe
The universe is him.
finally something not about you eh? Took me long enough
Tsunami Apr 2018
what my ancestors gave me

(the curves of my body
the curls in my hair
the swell of my *******
the wetness between my legs)

was not meant to be colonized.
stop them from eating me alive
Tsunami Sep 2020
Our talks of the sunset
Were poems themselves
i still think of us
Tsunami Jan 2018
The train tracks raced.
Connected you to I,
Wound through some sort of subspace,
Fell asleep to their lullabies.

Under bridges.
Over hills.
Drink your courage.
Swallow your pills.

The train tracks ran,

SO DID YOU.
abandonment is a hard pill to swallow when home never existed
Tsunami Mar 2019
Sometimes,
I find myself doing something
So minuscule
So mundane
That somehow my mind wanders to him
And I feel my heart break
A freshly cracked egg,
Just right for breakfast
i will always write of heart break
Tsunami Mar 2018
he
ripped my skirt off my thighs
my breath from my lungs
my virginity, a prize

rings caught on cheekbones
the sound of sighs
air filled with moans

lights reflecting of our skin
his horns catch glimmers
but only spread shadows

such a deadly sin
a stone cold killer
*** with the devil
*** is the devil
Tsunami Jan 2018
Did I tell you that my lungs burned the first time you told me you didn’t love me?
It was like my first taste of a cigarette,
Except your words never left me any kind of head rush.
My blood was replaced with liquid gold,
When I first yelled “*******” at the top of my lungs.
My veins encased with silver with every step I took.

The boiling point of gold and silver are both well over two thousand degrees celsius.
I swear that night I blistered out of my own skin,
Cauterized my own heart,
To never feel the pain of something so deep.

My hands were scorched with how much time I had spent,
Attending to your needs and pushing my own away.
My eyes begged for relief.
Every inch of skin you had ever touched continued to ignite long after you’d left.

And so in a final desperate attempt,
I say farewell,
To what we once had.
This is my goodbye,
The letting go of all my charred remains.

Lewis Mundt wrote about how people were made of 72.8% water,
To this day I believe,
I was 72.8% lava the night we said we’d never be.
i wrote this when i broke up with my first boyfriend at the tender age of 15
Sin
Tsunami Apr 2019
Sin
I need someone;
Who will speak prayers between my legs
Recite “Our Father” on my skin
Whisper “Hail Mary”s along with their tongue
Let me turn water into wine
Two lovers to one.
I have always been a sinner
Tsunami Mar 2018
Stuffed the words you said
Down my throat;
Followed quickly by the flick of tongue,
Swallowed the words you said,
Dogged with cigarette smoke,
In hopes,
You meant them.
god i miss u
Tsunami Mar 2018
I
still
feel
the
ghosts
of
your
touch
leave
whispers
down
my
spine
happy international poetry day!!
Tsunami Jun 2018
I have spent eternity searching for the red string that ties us
Finger to finger,
Atom to atom.
Deeper than Mariana's trench
Higher than the atmosphere

Our love was something they told stories of
Too young to understand what heartbreak could ever be.
Made songs about the yearning we felt for one another
It was a fairytale.
A bedtime story.

My dad used to tell me
About dinosaurs and fables and kingdoms
All stuff that I left once I fell asleep
but
I still don't know if I dreamt our fate up
if we ever existed;
in the same vicinity ,
in the same lifetime,
in the same time frame.

Did i imagine the affection you reciprocated?
Or was what my father taught me true?
Getting too close would have it's consequences
He, the sun
I, foolish Icarus
Plunging head first into the sea
no lifeboat in sight.
i miss it
Tsunami May 2019
I remember that night
The glow of lights softened the edges

The way you held my hand
I told you I didn't dance

Sneaking kisses because we knew
We couldn't
We shouldn't
We didn't need to fall back into the old
When this exact moment was meant to move forward

The sound of your voice trinkled over the music
I think those were my favourite notes that night

I could hear your words in my ear
Tantalizing and teasing
Your hands weaving electricity into my skin
Making me swear up and down;
if this ever ended..
For once i had given it my all.
Even if we ceased to exist to each other
last night was a trip down memory lane and i'd rather not have ******* done it
Tsunami Aug 2018
Perhaps..
Our atoms were in the same vicinity when the universe was created;
how lucky are we to, once again, cross paths.
once again,
To brush our atoms
One against the other,
feel the familiarity of "oh we've met before".
The universe has fallen into place many times since I have glanced into your eyes
Alas, he takes my breathe away.
stop falling in love @me
Tsunami Aug 2019
The
       mangoes
make an appearance
before the
                 monsoon...
so will you.
i was 17 when i wrote this
Tsunami Jul 2019
Sometimes,
My brain doesn’t understand how to get from
Point A to Point B
Without hitting Z, F, G, P
A symbiotic drum
Beating to our heartbeats

Sometimes,
My mind doesn’t know
How to count from one to ten
Without bringing twelve and ninety
To bubble up in between
It is a potion gone wrong in all honesty

I don’t go from being friends to acquaintances
Its all or nothing
Love and hate
Lust and disgust
There is no middle ground

Sometimes,
Thats the problem.
i dont know how to be normal
Tsunami Sep 2018
I,
The ship lost at sea.
Crashing waves and darkness surround me.

Him,
The north star.
Brighter than anyone I've ever seen

Our loneliness mingles on our tongues
It lingers on the warm spot you left beside me,
When you woke to leave
It shows face on the nights you aren't asleep next to me.

Our kisses are filled with paraphernalia we are too petrified to state.
Our touches hold promises that we can only fulfill.

The ocean and the night sky swallow our lights
Yet, somehow we still find each other.
this doesnt make sense
Tsunami Nov 2020
When I talk about you
People always say to me
“At least he wasn’t the one that got away”

But you are.
Tsunami Nov 2019
I'm sorry that I can not swallow my tongue
To appease you
Gulp it whole and choke
To make you feel good

I'm sorry that my body trembles
When I think of your hands
Grasped tightly around my neck
At that point, you are in more control of me
Than I have ever been
Tsunami Jan 2018
The first time we kissed ,
Our teeth knocked together.
You told everyone
this little fact

But you didn't tell them
Of our stolen kisses
Alone in the dark.
Whispers of how we wanted each other,
Whilst drunk off of cheap liquor.

You didn't fill them in on
If you ever liked me or not.
i write a lot about the same person. I hope hes doing ok
Tsunami Jan 2018
I see you every time I pass a place of old memories.
My eyes try to blink away the tears
His love was treachery
A ****** up affair

The scent of you
Earth and musk
Lingers in the breeze
Dawn to dusk

I taste you
On the tip of my tongue
(It’s kind of like a tattoo)
At the back of my throat
(God, we were young)

Your hands traveled
Down a lace thong
Unraveled my heart
Along with a black bra

I still hear your voice
Sighing words into my skin
Ringing alarm bells in my ears
Divulging secrets to my eager grin

My eyes have been overcast since the day you left
Reminders burned into my fovea centralis
(birthdays, favorite cigarettes, us undressed)
My sclera turned into translucent glass
All I hear is relentless noise
Or mindless buzzing
All I taste is alfalfa sprouts and chouse
I catch your cologne
Performing ballet in my clothes
(I should have known)

You always enjoyed
Feeling the drumming of my empty heart
Pumping blood to five senses that dance
To the beat of broken abstract art
i got my heart broken and it still hurts

— The End —