Heat

we flicker like fire
crack and slither
burn away with desire
we push at each other

our eyelashes flutter
like the wings
of a butterfly
waiting impatiently
for little deaths to stop by

if you take my hand
we’ll find the way
through every error
if you take my hand
I like to think
you’ll stop its tremor

but god isn’t willing
neither is everything else
and we’re not the kind of birds
that perch in haunted nests

so we linger in showers
daydream our lives away
wearing our masks of hope
we lie so we get to stay

but we quiver like flames
dance around one another
knowing very well
the smoke
is blowing our cover

Mnemonics

I have gotten better at forgetting
I don’t remember
the color of your eyes
the sound of your voice
or how to be honest anymore

I’m getting better at forgetting
you star in my nightmares only
every other day
I think about you only
once a week
I miss you only
twice a month

I’m getting better at forgetting
but I still remember things like
seeing my mother cry for the first time
I was five
she was alone
sitting on a swing in our garden
and I saw my silhouette in her tears

I’m getting better at forgetting
I don’t remember our conversations
or the future we could have had
or the door we left open

I’m getting better at forgetting
I’ve forgotten half of the war
half of my friends
and half of the promises we made

I’ve gotten better at forgetting
I keep forgetting things I want to remember
like the color of your eyes
the sound of your voice
and how to be whole again

Notch

I was drowning
you kept my head above water
you were ration
in my famine

I was curious
you were war
you were a circus
you gave me purpose

I was naive
you bared your fangs
you were a leap
I had to grieve

I was crumpled
you flattened me
you were a shovel
in my rubble

I was whole
you lied
you turned into a coal
under my sole

I was fascinated
you stung my lips
you exterminated
my masquerade

I was hope
you were home
I was choked
you were sold

I was in a dream
you wiped my illusions
clean
you were philistine

I’m wounded
you are a spectator
this is the cruelest
amusement

Fugue

I broke my piano
I kicked it to the dirt
I smashed everything
until my my arms were strings
until the hammers were fingers
pointing at me

sometimes I look at the corner
it was in
expecting it to be there
feeling the keys against my fingers
only to shake my head
the same way I did
when I used to play

give it up
the piano is gone
you destroyed it
you broke something
that made music
you erased a language
you could speak
you killed a god
you had touched

I’m sorry
I was mad
at myself
and hurt you
for it
I’m sorry
I had to
burn
the remains

this is not a drill

you know
the fortune teller
warned me about this
she told me
“there will be a storm in your life
one that is already there
waiting to disturb everything
and it will be a realization”
I scoffed
and thought nothing of it

I didn’t believe in fortune telling
I still don’t
but I can’t believe the fortune teller
saw this coming and I didn’t

there was a long calm before the storm
it snuck up on me
I don’t know what happened
I don’t know if it was always there
hiding
waiting for my ribcage to crack

it didn’t hit me hard
or knock me off my feet
it slithered
slowly
through my broken ribs
into my heart
lungs
and every other part of me

I’ve seen weathers
but this is the first time
something like this happens to me
usually the forecast is correct
usually I can tell
since day one
if there will be hurricanes
I guess I was too preoccupied
with puddles and mud
I guess I didn’t look the right way

I should have glanced at the sky
I could have seen it right away
but back then
my world was falling apart
and I was trying to be a home
for a broken branch

you know
even when
I was completely oblivious
to the wind growing wild
I remember it
it’s the only thing I remember

I don’t know what to do with this
catastrophe
I think it’s no longer a storm
it’s a tempest
it’s a typhoon
it’s something more
and it’s
knocking the wind
out of me

I don’t know what to do
with this realization
I don’t know where to go
there is no shelter for me
because I carry this
havoc
with in me
and it’s promising to crush me
whenever
I look at the sky

Lucy

 

My back has two scars
where my wings used to be
their phantom haunts me
mostly in the mornings
and right before I sleep

Their shadow is like a faint touch
by a gentle yet distant lover
reminding me
of my past glory
to distract me
from my present gore

Some warn you about tattoos
and how they stay forever
how you may regret them
but no one mentions scars
beware of scars
and how you get them

Some days when I wake up
from a scarless dream
in the first moments of awakening
it feels like my wings are still there
fluttering with pride
ready to carry me seven skies above

Time heals
we are told
I wish healing was perfect
I wish it was like erasing
I wish it left no residue
or memory
or scars

I may miss my wings
but I don’t miss myself when I had them
it’s ironic
I used to be a waste of wings
and right when I was starting to be worthy
they were plucked
and I was pushed off the clouds

I shouldn’t be writing about my wings
they didn’t define me
I should be writing about you instead
after all
you were the reason I lost my wings
and my reason
and almost my head

But then I lost you
and myself
and everything I thought I believed in

Damn you.

May 15th

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And here it is
the sunshine bursting from clouds
the light breaking through drapes
the beams sneaking out of cracks

The eventual morning
the awaited spring
the flock of birds
flying away

It is here
the moment of clarity
the transitional point
I had been anticipating
every second
I was awake

I want to
hold this moment
and remember it
whenever I think
it would never come again

Sometimes I forget
but I’ve been here before
I’ll be here again
and I’ll live for feelings like this
freedom from burdens
evaporation of feelings
turning of pages

I didn’t turn the page dear
I ripped the page off
like you were never there
like we were never in love

You know me
and my extremity
and my love for destruction
and freedom

I’m sorry that you couldn’t handle me
I’m sorry that you didn’t think you were enough
I’m sorry you thought I deserved better
and I was too much
but most of all
I’m sorry you were right all along.

Some nights I kick myself
for taking so long to draw the curtains
but I stop and convince myself that
I’m only human and

As humans, we’re always so suspended in our existence, in the moment
we can’t comprehend the ephemeral nature of life
we think the pain will be eternal
we think the love will never stop
we seem to forget that
only the sun burns forever
and we will eventually see the light, always

So here we are
I’ve lifted the blinds
I’ve opened my eyes
to this dawn
and it feels like
I’ve been born again.