The indignity
Of you who gave me life
On a cold, passion-filled, loveless night
Your young skin
On her old bones

You who hid from the cradle
The bat-catcher
The apologetic on the phone
Lying amidst the ruins of
Dreaming of

Scents and spices
Hot flames licking the back of your hand
Pastries dancing
On grilled lamb shanks

Do you often wake in the middle of the night
As I do
And wonder if there was something you could do
but didn't
And then willed yourself into

Nonexistence

The indignity
Of being forgotten by a part of yourself
Of losing your soul to the mistakes of the past

A Kingfisher for lunch
Lost in a daze
I'm just a drop in the ocean, you said.

Let's not forget the moment
Let's not forget Foster and mutton curry
Let's not forget that somewhere out there there's me

The sound of their steady voices
Mercy of strangers
You are unhinged and you don't know about it

The yearn for something more than this
Oh, young lady, fool us, please
You laughed and welcomed me to the club

And you know, oh, how you know
That I'm new and stupid
And yet you laughed with me

i found a hole in which i could hide, in which my thoughts are safe from you.
i jump to conclusions, and i'm not good with names.
i change too fast, and i hide too well.
try to remember the last time you had taken a good look at me.
you do not remember my face.
but i remember. i remember everything.

if i had a heart i would have worn it on my sleeve.

i found a whirlwind in which i could throw my secrets into,
in which they come out muddled beyond comprehension.
i think too quickly, and i pretend too readily.
try to remember how many times have i said goodbye to you.
you do not know my voice.
but i know. i know nothing.

if i had a soul i would have cried out for you.

i found a pool in which i could fish, in which i use pieces of myself as bait.
i am too many things, for too many people.
i lie too willingly, and i influence too effortlessly.
try to remember the last time you had resisted me.
you do not recognize my touch.
but i recognize. i recognize weakness.

if i had a body i would have yearned for you.


but alas, i have none. you do understand cruelty but you do not understand me.

"The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of." -  Holly Golightly, Breakfast At Tiffany's

i've been having the mean reds lately.

it's a paradox. how you're never the best, but when better ones come along, they pale in contrast to you. somehow i've come to love you in all your averageness, found beauty in your flaws. somehow your insignificance gave me a place to settle upon.

it's comfortable in your arms, and your smell assures me. please never allow me to lose you.