So he came around last autumn, washed up on my shore. And the air was heavy with something but it wasn’t love.
And he said sweet things, like dewy maple on hot pancakes and it finally hurt in the right places and I did want to stop but I couldn’t. I jumped right in.
I jumped right in, and he was there then. There to hold me, when these feet were about to hit nails and knives that lay on the ground.
But he was like a season, and seasons change.
Love fading? I know what that feels like. It feels like a knot in your throat at 2 am and however hard you try, you cannot swallow it. It is water down your nostrils when all you wanted to do was breathe. It feels like losing your favourite thing, over and over again. It washes over you in waves. It drowns you and all you can do is watch.
Was love beautiful or ugly as hell? I have no answer.
But it wasn’t love, it was him. And his love fading felt like a slow death by poisoning. And his words, I wonder if he meant them or were they mints that he offered to every beautiful stranger that he met.
When he said that I was too nervous, my tongue wanted to crush his treacherous tongue against it so that he would have to chew back on his words and tell me that he was sorry.
But he wasn’t. He isn’t.
I know you loathe it,
Putting the pain up on display,
like flowers and fireworks.
I know no other away,
I know no other way.
My shadow creaks as I bend,
Breaking Silence’s familiar monologue.
The crest and fall of my bosom is a semi colon,
Amidst the phrases which speak of staying or leaving.
You make my bones restless,
Your voice, the unheard music, reverberates through my limbs.
But darling, I am honey and cyanide,
And you would not know the difference till the very end.
I breathe in galaxies, breathe out chaos.
I paint my voice in shades of melancholy,
The kind, that voiceless trees whisper at nights.
I create, annihilate.
Words have pierced holes through me like shards of glass never can,
Everything was fleeting, until this very moment, the culmination of
Time and its sinister ways.
And now you’re glowing uncertainly, like an ember
Threatening to stir The Forbidden that sleeps in me,
Do not awaken my poetry, if you do not intend to read it at ungodly hours.
But if you find my scent heady, and you want no other…
Then lay your head on my chest, lovely love
And even the spaces between my cells will sing you love songs.
I shall steal mountain mist to cover your wounds,
I am a wild forest stream,
But I promise,
That I will flow ever so gently when you tread on my periphery.
And I will be the crescent trickling down your skin, tracing silhouettes of wicked words in dead and forgotten languages,
Leaving no shadows as I retrace my tracks from your lips.
It was not dawn yet,
And you were already a wisp of smoke,
You were a million neglected and unanswered prayers
Floating in the air. I could feel the air saturating with despair.
A pair of eyes, a pair of hands, an empty promise.
That’s how I remember you.
Smoking by the window, I could see that you were thinking a
million thoughts per second. I had already lost you.
I wish I could drag from your in-betweens,
That is where you always dwelt.
Or I rather wish, I was a place
That you would return to.
But I had already lost you.
The smell of your cigarette smoke on my lips,
The sensation of your fingers letting go of my arm one by one,
That’s how I want you to remember me.
You were a traveller, but not the usual kind
You wandered off so far into the woods of your thoughts,
I think I saw beauty in the way you left me.
But I want you to remember me,
Like hanging on to consciousness, when you’re drifting to sleep
Because you want to stay awake,
You could not, neither could I make you.
Yet stay awake in my memory, my sweet drifter.
Lost traveller, maybe we can meet in the cavern once again,
Maybe you will come back, Maybe I’ will still be here.
Tonight, when the moonbeams touch my spine…
Tonight, when I sew stars under my skin which you hollowed where you kissed,
Tonight, I won’t have to try.
My bones won’t remember your weight,
Midnight will melt alone on these sheets reminiscing
Those times of old;
Tonight, a year ago
You lay in deep slumber,
I swear I had never laid mine eyes upon something this beautiful
Nor I ever will.
Tonight is the night of forgetting
Your breath on the small of my back
Your hands searching like a lost wanderer…
For a place the map will never show.
Tonight, your breath will fog my memory
As I lie down on this cemetery of a bed, one last time.
Tonight, I shall not remember,
I was but the Rain, I was fleeting.
And you will be a flower long pressed between the pages of my memory.
Honey, don’t touch me…
Don’t you touch me tonight.
I am sore, I am an open wound.
I could bleed onto your shirt,
soak you in red.
Your limbs will cry murder.
No, my saviour cannot be charged with
Stay farther, dearest…
For tonight, I must burn alone.
Yet stay, watch me go up in flames.
I would not let anyone else near, without consuming them.
Or come into my arms,
let me devour you.
I will be the sky that swallows
Tonight, I am sore.
Tonight, I am a black hole.
I want to pick on my flesh,
I want to tear away this skin
I no longer can recognise.
Tonight, I am The Abyss,
and you, the lost hermit.
Let this abyss be your sanctum now…
You are safe no longer,
I am your only haven.
I will be the ebbing sea,
I will be the raging ocean,
You shall be a wrecked ship on my shores.
Tonight, we shall melt into
I am a shipwreck; the ocean beckons to me,
I will sink, I will drown, I will go under.
The darkness will swallow me whole.
But this longing never dies, of hearing once more the echo of your footsteps;
On my soggy abandoned floorboards.
This longing has kept me afloat; your memory haunts my deck.
Oh woeful night, my beloved deserter.
Many hands have rested on my steering,
But yours are the only pair I will remember.