i hold my breath as i read through

i hold my breath as i always do

whenever there’s something

something about you

that comes out of the back of my mind

out from where i left you behind

It’s a pity how it all goes to waste

a day or two, a month or two

then i’m back crying because i miss you

this histrionic mind of mine is a wreck

for more than 5 years i’ve been wanting you back

i let you go, i set you free

she let you go, she set you free

is it really fated?

this fantasy of you and me?

Flagging the truths with words of woes
How could known facts be stabbingly bitter?
Heartbreakingly beautiful love stories flow into rivers and drown
lured by the glittering waters at first deepening all of a sudden at a point where there is no return  
I plunge
I can no longer go back
I cannot envision a world without you
as I plummet I look for your hand in blurring visons
How could this be any different than it is now?
I think about this a lot and  fantasize ways of keeping us alive
One day I am deep down touching the ground next day I simply float in nothingness.
A breathless  brutality captures me when I am down
I frown and drown accepting the depth
Anger helps me to breathe finally
Bubbling gasps become my words
I am in high altitudes deep down
as I suffer in my dyspnea

He gives me a premature ventricular contraction –
Simply referring to inefficient blood circulation –
Causing my heart to skip a beat on every occasion.

Ever so often thereafter, he performs a cardiectomy –
In other words, a surgical removal of the heart – on me
Through which my precious heart is stolen by my Timmy.

I still experience dyspnea – difficulty in breathing –
And my breath is taken away by he who is my Spring,
My one and only significant other and my everything.

He gives me a premature ventricular contraction,
simply referring to inefficient blood circulation.
Causing my heart to skip a beat on every occasion.

Ever so often thereafter, he performs a cardiectomy –
In other words, a surgical removal of the heart, on me.
Through, which my precious heart is stolen by my Baby.

I still experience dyspnea – difficulty in breathing,
and my breath is taken away by he who is my Spring,
My one and only significant other and my everything.

I sit often in my bed,
wishing for inspiration to melt its way from my heart
into my fingertips
which click against the keys on this machine
to form words that get jumbled in my brain,
that I may untangle their knots
and loosen their grip
just enough that the ache in my forehead subsides,
and the weight on my chest is lifted even a little.
Most of the time,
whatever reactions are supposed to happen in me,
whatever connections are supposed to form
don’t,
and I continue to ache until the numbness sets in.

I handle emotions alone.
I don’t seek attention.
I don’t want the weakness.
I don’t reach out,
because I got sick of the sting
of each slap that shouldn’t have surprised me.
I love being alone;
In fact, I crave it,
but I miss the social sense of belonging that used to balance me out.
I want to grasp a hand that is stretched out to me
for a change,
but the air is always empty.

Even as I type this
I am running out of words that explicate
the cause of the dyspnea that overwhelms me
at abrupt, random moments,
and my ability to form lucid, complete thoughts
is lost.

How do you wipe a wound that isn’t even bleeding?
How do you heal a bone that isn’t even broken?
How to you fix a muscle that isn’t even torn?

I am not fragmented.
I am not cracked.
I am not damaged,
yet something in me is still leaking,
seeking something more.

I am not standing in the darkness;
I am just waiting for this sun to shed light
on a soul that knows
when to reach out
and when to let me be.

I talk to you as though you're still here
in the room with me, watching me work
I tell you about all of the things you've missed:
my acceptance to grad school and thesis
how I've started watercolour painting
and learning Japanese
reading Rilke and writing poetry again
you would've loved that

and I tell you about grief and loss and death
how I should've stayed with you that day
I saw your heart shatter and break
you were gone just a week later
I had never seen anyone in so much pain
but when I held your hand and said I was there
I swear I felt you try to squeeze it back still
even through your dyspnea and delirium

I still see you, you know?
when I look in the mirror it's not my face
but yours looking back at me
and when I write they are not my words
but yours reflected back on the page
and sometimes, when I am quiet enough
I can hear your replies to me, too
and you talk to me, as though you're still here

PRAY PLEASE

Difficulties come suddenly, with a bang; in a gang.

Taken aback we are, as that poisonous serpent raises his fang.

This afternoon was an ordinary one, cooly I sang.

A little discomfort, a little dyspnea, a bell of alarm rang !

Then the doc said very grave is the problem, failing is his heart.

Now in ICCU admitted he is, n anxiously I await his recovery.

Ahura please bless my dearest hubby with a long healthy n happy life.

As such, we all know that life is full of strife;

So all my dear readers, friends n near n  dear ones pray for my Hubby please do.

Pray for Vispi's recovery quick; for miracles happen do.

In my crisis grant me strength, physical, mental, emotional please.

Armin Dutia Motashaw