Who knows

Your head found my shoulder,
And we lived conjoined for weeks
On end, side by side, some said
We were more than friends –
One wished, and one knew
We were, but we
Were not –
Would not be what one
Wished we could be
But who knows what,
And these things are still confusing,
As though we split, you
Changed and stayed
The same, and I am someone else
Every other day, though
I could say the same for you,
As though you stay the same,
You’re stuck in perpetual static change –
Unchanging and everchanging,
I loved you, and all your little things –
Your mugs, your painful patience,
Your hair I would find everywhere,
Your eyes when they would stare into mine, so late at night,
Your smile, your lips when they would meet mine, or simply exist –
I would have worshipped every freckle, birthmark, and scar
On your body, and soul, but
You are someone else than the one
I mentioned before,
And in the end who knows
Who is who and what is what and who we are and what we are not

Time slips by

Time slips by in an instant, but I still
Remember the way to your parents’ place, the feeling of
Seeing you pull away, a couple of tears marking your face,
Trailing past pathways, memories, the scars you would rather
Scratch away, but I thought you were beautiful either way.

How could you be so effortlessly attractive to me,
Brushing your teeth, with that little shake
In your hair, whilst your tired eyes looked into mine?

Did you know?
Did you see?

The gears turning in my head, as I tried not to jeopardise what
We had, but I couldn’t lie, not with words, or with
Goodbyes, no,
I tried, but time
Slips by in an instant, and I
Still find reminders of you –
A word, a hair, an inside joke that we wouldn’t dare
Share with the world.

I hope you know or knew that I
Do care, and I did care, though I don’t know
If I will care when time slips away,
And the hair that frames my face is a shade of
Melancholic grey… but for now
Let us mourn the love that we could have had
For every future yesterday.

poem: we can’t

Hey, can we please start again?
A new sunrise, new
Dewdrops on the flowers outside
Your window where we
Could have lied in the grass, but
Instead we lied to ourselves,
And said:
It was going to be a beautiful day
For us to enjoy together but
This is not our day –
It’s not yours,
nor is it mine.

Of course, it would be nice
To start from the start –
From where it all began, but
Now, we are where we are,
Though at least

We’re still friends.

Even through all the lies –
The goodbyes to the past
And future we never had.
The goodbyes to a sunrise
That would never set on us, together.
The goodbyes to the life
We never had and
Will never have
Because
we can’t start again.

My lovely paradox

The sun shines through my windows,
But the night lives on in my mind.
Thoughts of a melancholic moon, you,
Imaginary jealousy, a wish
To just leave things be.
Oh, it’s simultaneously light and dark,
Life and death,
But either way,
Nothing
In the end.

Certainty: Death, Love, and Everything in Between

Late night surround sound
The city lights in my mind
Explosive thoughts, touches
Heart, body, mind, in ecstasy,
A sensory overload that leaves me
Reeling, dazed and melancholic
For days, but I chase
The high, the feeling of being
In love – in love with an unobtainable being,
A serving, a portion, an abortion of love
It had a foundation but that’s all there was
Deleted fetus turned off
By the machine, that hides
Behind clouds, doubt and indifference
All around, as my thoughts disappear
Into the loud, late night surround sound

The Fall – A Short Serie of Poems

Echoes of a damaged soul

She’s sitting on the bed,
Singing her song.
I just can’t help it,
But my heart moves along
And my feet find the beat.

I see your every breath,
Every strum of your fingers
Along the strings, but it’s not the guitar
That I hear, in my heart.
It’s your voice
Echoing in my soul,
As the intricate patterns unravel
And my thoughts travel, to past patterns –
Webs of anxiety, where I am wrapped
In love and soft promises,
That branded my mind –
Marked my heart and left me.

Anxiety

Attraction makes me anxious
Getting pulled in against my will
And I don’t really know how to feel
Is it real, is it real
Or is it the same old spiel
Where I fall for someone and I can’t believe
They would be into me or believe
Our heart beats, the string instruments
Of a living symphony
It’s no Flight of the Bumblebee
Or a composition by Debussy,
No, it is just one exciting anxiety

A funny thing

Two avoidants walk into a room.
Neither one speaks,
Neither one makes a move.

Instead, they embrace each other, and their nature, with feigned yawns,
Strategic stutters, and self-explanatory mutters.

Somehow, somewhat, in some way
One explains in a particular way,
What he wanted to say –
As if it was a birth of words,
With all its contractions,
Contradictions, and a sincere lack of diction and sounds.

At last, he got the words out,
Which is when it became her turn
To try to explain in some way –
A particularly elaborate way –
Far away from each other’s gaze,
What exactly she wanted to say.

Look at them, they’ve come such a long way.
I wonder what someone with a different perspective might say.

“Two avoidants walked into a room.
Neither one speaks.
Neither one leaves,
As they both have a crippling fear of abandonment.”

Us, the looking glass

Crystallise the love to keep it intact.
It’s a frightful transparancy,
To breathe life into a feeling
By giving it a voice,
In your presence.

We’re made of glass, the melted sands
Of all our past failures, victories,
Sins, and the lovers we have been.

Crystallise our love, my dear.
Our hearts are so clear in their desire,
As they burn and shake themselves apart
In an anticipation for past pessimism.

But, oh, the sands of the hourglass keep falling,
Day in, day out,
And I find myself in their midst,
Falling for you.

I want you to know

I kissed you in the snow,
And I didn’t want to go home
To an empty bed.

Hours earlier, we watched the sun set
As I told you stories,
While you rested your head on my chest.

I wonder if you could hear my heart beat,
Mere centimeters from your ear.
I wonder if you could hear it skip a beat
Whenever you laughed, squeezed my arm,
Or poked me in the side.
I wonder if you could hear my stomach
Digest the fact that there seems to be an increase in the amount of butterflies spotted, this week.

What a strange natural phenomenon –
To act on and subsequently reflect on,
Days later when

I kissed you in the snow,
Because I wanted you to know
That these feelings are real
And that this is the way that I feel.

I don’t want anything else,
Or someone new.
When we kissed,
You found me,
And I found you.

Home

I’ll build you a home in my arms,
Where you can be alone.
But if I do,
I don’t know
If there’s enough room for two.
If you’re in my chambers –
If you’re in my heart,
Then the last thing I’d want
Is for this house to fall apart.

Dark Matter in an Empty Space

I feel the empty space next to me. Where there should be another heart, beating, another body, breathing, there is just me. A pillow in the middle, instead of choosing sides. There is only my smell on the blankets, on my sheets.

I am covered by my own space.

I want to turn around in the middle of the night, and find you there… my finger tips slowly discovering your arm, the dip in your waist, your soft breast, as if it’s exploring you for the first time. I want to come to rest, turning onto my side, and bury my nose in your soft hair. I can barely breathe, but I welcome the suffocation. To know that there is someone by my side… it’s enough.

My heart is essentially clenched, threatening to burst as it tries to hang onto its love. I tell myself: “don’t waste it. You have only so much love to give, spare some for yourself.” But, my god, it’s addicting. To find a new fixation, to chase that sensation – the excitement.

How much it then hurts, when I lay here and I lie to myself, late at night. I shut my eyes tightly and tell myself that this is the way, and things will go the way they go. But at the end of the day, I still lay here on my own.

I’m okay with pretending, I’ve always had a love for drama

I’ve still got the scar you gave me last week.
Perhaps it wasn’t our intended intensity
When we broke our friendly sanctity,
But I do look back on it, fondly.

I thought that after we left our marks
On each other’s bodies, and lost our minds
In each other’s glory that I wouldn’t have to worry
Or care about a thing.

Honestly, I wanted to reach out two days later
To you – my new addiction, my hyper focus
For my brain that has longed for a fix
For so long, but I know that love, sex or a kiss
Won’t mend what’s been broken.

It’s now been a couple of days since we’ve last spoken,
And even though my door is wide open
I may not always be home.

With your mark on my shoulder
I wander alone between the trees in the park
And I wonder if you also still carry a piece of me,
Or if I should simply let you be.

I am rather happy, however, to notice
I’m at least at peace, finally.
That doesn’t mean that I want you to leave –
Believe me, I would love to see you again
And pretend for one more night
That it’s just you and me.

Tag: love