the words come easy
when they are about love
they float around me,
and my mouth speaks
before i can regret letting out
all that i hold inside of me
the light and the beauty
we lay down in your bed,
but this time
my teeth pull the words back
my throat is on fire
so much of it
why aren't they floating
i want to
the love choking me up
until my lips
until my hands
are brave enough to
hold us in their warmth
will you wait for me
I'll come back
word and every
tiny bit of longing
i swallowed back
i won't let all of it
disappear inside me,
not this time,
i love you.
maybe i was just hiding behind pride and shiny things,
maybe the shame i hold inside myself was too big to be left unseen,
bright colors and silky clothes, dozens of rings and necklaces, and the swish swish of oversized chains on oversized pants on oversized everything,
all meant to hide the ugly swirls of my hands,
the highest notes of my voice,
the round parts of a body i cant stand to see from your eyes.
or then again
it could just be called surviving.
heartbreak cannot be pinned down to one single moment in time,
it goes on and on even though one might expect it,
the thrill of the ride ending quite too soon, again,
but the road was so beautiful that
we kept on making the same mistake,
because showing love is too powerful to be scared of the shatter
because pride forbids from learning, and shouldn't we be proud of loving quite so much?
so keep the heart breaking, as long as we can bear it,
maybe it'll come back stronger.
i will never quite fit into my body
it won't ever be a temple,
oozing perfection and glory,
bathed in all that i wish it was born as.
my body will never quite fit me,
but it might become a home,
reflecting love and pride,
built by years of hardships just to thrive.
It's taken me
to be vulnerable
to tell you I love you
while you fell asleep
between my arms,
I know that you know,
I told you already
at least two hundred times.
I guess I just
wanted an answer
I just wanted an answer.
feels like the most relieving thing that could happen to me,
not the act of it,
but the thought of leaving and being remembered for a while
as a bunch of stories and words of wisdom and weird connections,
and maybe the color i wore the most will remind a few about me,
or maybe the clothes i left behind will find another holder,
but then at some point,
i wil be forgotten, and isn't that peaceful.
to have lived, and seen, and talked, learnt for so many years, and your existence will have mattered for some and been invisible for others, until eventually
and the world goes on without you,
and you will have been a small part of it.
I'd rather you tell me no,
not right now,
as in pity,
as in obligation,
as in "I don't want to, but I'll make an effort just to please you".
I am not as fragile
as you think,
I don't want to be an effort,
I want to be a conscious