ghosting

it's been so long since i've been heart broken

sometimes it's months before i think about you again

your face is always a blurred memory

in the back of my car,

sitting in front of me - laughing and smiling your toothy grins

i read a news article

your favourtie musician 

talking about getting ghosted

the end of the article talked about what ghosting means

but i already knew, thanks to you

so i open the socials and type your name in the search bar

i look at your face

i look at photos of you, taken from different angles

i don't know her, i cannot place her face in my memories

why was i ever so attached to you?

Roosting for you!

I find myself in strange territory- 

A world of chickens,

where the chicklets hatch,

leaving eggshells in their path;

sincerely for me to tread on.

Like a cat, I weave through,

a gentle paw along the earth.

Body contorting to the crowd

"Don't touch me!!" says my spine

"Curious..." say my eyes

my expressions never giving me away.

It should feel familiar,

stepping around everyone's eggshells.

Each step, each turn, each movement

betrayal

Unfaithful

sponsoring war against myself

Phone calls

Ring ring ri-

The repititon is provoking

Studies suggest, tone of voice makes a difference

Most misunderstandings happen on text

So I've started calling people

I miss you

How are you

Sorry i never call you

Sorry I don't respond to your text

Why did you not think about me?

Why did you not call me? 

I am trying to be here 

Now

Trying

Ring ring ring

Pick up

So I can hear your voice

that you still care about me 

maybe you were just busy for a moment

Ring ring ring

So i know you don't hate me 

that you'll be decent with me

Surely you thought of me

Ring ring ring

So I know you're alive

You were just really preoccupied 

take pity on me 

Ring ring ring

Nevermind 

3:30 a.m. 6th March

The fire on the midnight stove

Is a little beating heart 

Insufficinet and warm

Aware of the timer ticking

Each second passing 

Pulsing in blue and yellow

It quiets down soon

The water has boiled now. 

My alarms warn me gently

The world shall be waking up soon

So much work is yet to be done 

And i have lost another night to you

Will i ever recover?

bruh idk

I do not have big words 

to express myself

but there is a reality to romance

there is so much distortion in a young perception of it

i'm not just talking about the expectations from a partner 

but the fact that everyone experiences it differently 

there is a fear that sets in

when we find out that it is not all what we thought out that it would be

in friendships

in romances

in family

I have a place where i come home to rest 

but my house is becoming scarce

as i grow bigger 

my emotions aren't mine only

they are shared by those around me 

like magnets, repulsion and attractions happen.

there was once a happy realisation 

my life needs more than a couple of sittings to be told

but now it seems like such a misery 

a five course meal of stories 

when all i want is a fast food solution to my problems

no longer want to understand or be understood

no longer want to care or be cared for 

all because people will only understand what they want to 

and because caring is understood as wanting pity

so we become lonely 

a 3 a.m. draft post drinks and loneliness

We forget how mush distance there is between us

but i remember it like a headache

it's all i think about when my mind drifts apart

i'm stuck in a room with two clocks

each second ticks after the other

like the beating of a heart

it makes me tick

and a lock and key cannot help 

to stop their murmurings

and so the night marches

with the cold sifting into the world

Ownership

You say my name as if it's yours

I have no ownership 

You own it as if my soul has your tongue imprinted all over it

It travels in me 

Reminding each part that it's not my own

I have no control over myself

I feel like an intruder in my own body 

I don't think I should be here. 

You were supposed to be my mirror 

But the water in the pond has become muddier

Maybe that's why you can't see me anymore 

If I were a bird, 

I'd hold it within my palms and crush it 

How can it be alive 

The least, it should be crippeled

I would squeeze in hopes the life goes out 

But what I hate the most is the possibility that it might not die. 

I open my palms and i will see it 

Legs twitching and trying to stay alive. 

I will leave it as it is.

No remorse for my own actions 

I'd think about it and wonder how it turns out. 

Maybe someday I'd see it again, doing it's best to hop and fly,

To be like others 

But it won't ever be 

Everyone bird will be on their own 

And it will do it's best to get along 

But it won't ever be able to 

It can't 

Because it won't hold remorse against my palms 

It won't do anything but hold onto the remorse and keep moving forward. 

I hate the bird and yet

I'm a little proud of it. 

But it's ironic how easily it gets caged

Daylight

Do I miss them for their wisdom 
or because they're dead?

Is it the idea of remembering someone?

Or the fact that you can think them up to be whatever you want 

no body to dispute it

For the dead will be dead

Whether they are alive or not

Doesn't matter

No memory serves well

No way to confirm eccentricities or idiosyncrasies 

It didn't matter to me when they were alive

So why do i care now?

What do i bring to the feast of sorrow?

When did I ever give a shit about him?

I don't care about what is alive

What he has left after him

My behaviour says 

"it's all all dead"

So why do i catch myself thinking back to him?

I hope you never find yourself waiting for the sun to rise

For it would be the longest night you'll spend

Sorryforyourloss

Somtimes 

When my teeth hurt at night

I think I'm rotting;

And one day

All my teeth will fall out.

And when my knees ache in the cold

I feel just like my mother

Though I'm still 20

My bones feel older

Blood shot eyes from staring 

I feel like my father 

I think I've gotten off track 

I have my mother's eyes and my father's face.

I'm shorter but I want to lift up the world

So i can overthrow it.

I don't actually know what I want.

Runt.

I feel like a genius 

I feel like a burnout

I feel average 

I feel depressed

There it is

The toothache

The embodiment of my agony.

Have my emotions gotten tired of me?

Are they trying to swim?

My eyes feel sticky

I don't close them often enough

They're drying out 

I try to drink more water

But i wish I could lick my eyes like geckos do

To make up for the irritation.

Irritation 

Everyone is so nice and so pleased to meet you 

And I'm such a delight for I am still alive.

Wonder what could be said if I wasn't

"So True" "Genuinely" "Literally" "Absolutely" 

And the little abundant giggles will be my redemption.

Goodbye

I never learnt how to say good bye

They taught me how to say hello 

How to learn about them

Likes; dislikes

Finding out commonalities

Like the details of a beetle wing

Holographic rows of crystals 

And how it makes the light bend

How to press flowers 

How to polish shoes 

Iron your shirts and comb your hair

Carry gum and a pocket watch

Tell the time to drop them off

But never how to say good bye

How do you break a heart and then say

"Good bye and best of luck" 

Without sounding like an asshole

How do you express 

"I wish I could have loved you as much as you loved me"

How do you show 

"I'm so sorry for the way things have turned out but this is the best I can do"

How do you say good bye to something you were too afraid to try

No one taught me that

How do I learn 

If not by trying

But at what cost

At what fucking cost

A dozen or two broken heart?

I'd rather not say goodbye 

heartbreaks aren't always obvious

they're not seen by everyone

sometimes a heart breaks between typing

when they change the 'when' to an 'if'

they break their own hearts before someone else can

it's so sad

heartbreak is also when their immediate response to upsetting news is

'that's okay'

they start comforting you immediately

it's like you're watching them from behind a glass

and you can't stop yourself from comforting them

even though you're the one who is upset

but it's your fault you got so attached

how many lessons must you learn in love 

how many lessons till i graduate 

till i get a lover of mine

what more should i learn to be an ideal partner

what more 

what more 

what more

Sleepover

 i planned my dates with a dead man

his corpse lying beneath me

the hacked off hair bestrewn

on the ceremonial cloths of his life

and i fell in love with a dead man

for the 40th year of my life

and i looked like it was my first year

of ever having a crush

the same morose look

a glassy eyed façade-towards the world

rose-tinted perhaps

but like a ticking time-bomb

i could never know when it would come off

and i dream of the boy

who writes down each date he cries on

with his cropped off hair like an egg

sleeping on the floor with the alligators

he eats his noodles with a spoon

and soup is a dislike

he settles his home in the bathroom

after his 8th glass

sugar cubes for the horse

and the fawns alike

they mutter to each other in the stables

before the dawns light

i dream of being in his arms

the boy with his heavy back

shoulders of a bull

chin of a moon

square feet and palms

sitting in the sand

our feet over drift wood

getting lost on his 4th glass

staring at the gravel of the train tracks as if they were the stars

Lately

lately

i've been 

thinking 

about calling you 

but my stomach dissolves in itself

i

think of calling you up

"let us pretend, nothing bad ever happened"

i'd tell you about my day and how much i missed you

(you'd tell me about yours and how much you missed me)

i'd tell you about how i waited for you for so long

(i can't imagine what you would say to that)

i'm still not past it

and i dream of lengthy conversations 

all over again

it sounds like i want to fall in love with you again

but you're not the same

neither am i

so do i miss you or do i miss 

the feeling 

of

being in love?

Guest

I have a heart that keeps on pumping

pumping

pumping 

pumping

pumping

i am tired

yet it pumps

relentlessly

never slowing down to take a break

why?

why won't my heart stop beating?

I sang a song to the spider in my bathroom;

it appeared out of the drain.

Is that where spiders are born?

In the sink drain, 

where all the hair collects and makes a nest?

I ran to clutch my instrument!

Guest in the bathroom!

Sang a little love song as it climbed the wall

with my foot on the counter

as if I were serenading the guest.

The spider stopped after a little bit 

as I finished the song.

Soon I took a bow and left the spider I loved

on my blue bathroom wall.

Left to learn a new song,

so that maybe tomorrow I can entertain another guest.

Bitter

I hope lovers fall asleep and never wake up
like the ones at Pompeii.
I hope they find dreams in each other's arms 

and they never wake up.

It may be ill of me to wish such a curse

upon all the lovers in the world

but I wish not for them to know

how cruel the world is. 

For once they are awake

they are bound to be bitter.

Bitter towards the broken dreams

and towards each other.

I hope the lovers are spared of this bitterness, 

which seems so human in it's own fault

Maybe if all the lovers fell asleep at once,

the world will be rid of love.

Love is the hope in the darkest times,

without lovers, will we still know how to love?

Test out your humanity.

Will new lovers evolve, who never sleep?

Eggshells

I don't know who I am dreaming of anymore
but my dreams feel beautiful.

I need to put up curtains 

so that I can sleep.

The sun is too bright, 

however you see it.

You can't see the sun from my bedroom window,

hell you can't see anything but white walls.

There is a wall right next to it, 

one in front of it and a few surrounding it, 

Yet the sunlight shines through the vines climbing on the grill

and at it's peak, reflect off the wall and into my eyes.

What ever did I do to the architect of the house and the sun

that they push my sleep away through their schemes. 

Yet the lizard on my window grill 

appreciates their shenanigans.

It lazes in the light, 

the blood running warm

as I squint on my glowing screen 

to differentiate between we're and were.

We are in a room together.

Laughing under covers in the winter 

talking about drugs and dolphins

men shitting their pants while riding motorcycles

I tell you the story of the sailor who the sea was in love with

and how she fell out of love

into a cold and quiet sense

like a marriage that fell apart

I saw all of it unfold in a dream.

We were in a room together.

But now I can't stand the thought of it.

How can you face me again?

How can I face you without thinking twice

without the thought of slapping you crossing my mind

But I'll always tell you the story of how much the ocean loved the sailor

and how he watched the life in her, 

hoping he could have loved her more.

When all he got were the quiet still waves,

he wished to stir her up with his own hands-splashing in the water.

What is the touch of someone you loved 

against an ocean of cold depth. 

Life frozen in glaciers, 

waiting for the summer to come 

and bring her back life.

 

Mourn

 I love you

I love you

I love you

I wish I could say it again and again to you
I wish you would understand the intensity every time I said it
I wish I could hold you at night
I keep dreaming about it

About holding you

and wondering

what if I didn't wait for you

what if I had just kissed you

Was it wrong for me to wait for you?

I knew that I missed you

but after meeting you

I mourn the person I knew

I mourn for the love that I couldn't share with you

not because it hurts me but because I know I am too good for you

Sometimes you fall in love with people

and when that happens- you hope that all the good things happen to them

at that moment you don't realise that you are a good thing that happened to them

you don't until they're gone

and you cry with your knees tucked under your chin

missing them

because you needed this more than they do.

Short

She only seemed to drink when 

nothing seems to come out of her;

straight down, neat;

without a sound,

where most people would choke.

You could always tell her glass apart,
chipped on the rim-

from the day she bit into it.

There were a multitude of other-

new glasses-

in the wooden cupboards,

but she always seemed to pick the same chipped glass,

despite the risk of cutting herself;

it was always that glass.

A short glass, 

big enough to fit in her hand,

small enough to fill a drink,

just enough to get her there.

With a crown base,

made her feel important.

Yet she would hold it, 

with both of her hands-

like a warm drink in winters,

as if it was the only thing grounding her.

Her fingers running over the indentations

as her thoughts would slow down and prepare

to change their tracks

and take the route through a quieter scene.

She only drank when her thoughts would drown her

and she couldn't tell the ponds apart from the ocean.

As if the viscosity of the whiskey would help her float.

July

Sometimes I feel strong

a body

muscles wrapped and stern

curves and ridges

like a tree oak

Do people notice it when they hug me?

when I hold her, does she feel the soft curves, the way I do?

I hope I find a lover, how knows my body like I do

and I learn to know theirs too

It's beautiful

to touch someone

run your hands over them as much as you can

memorise the little hairs and moles on their shoulders

My promises to fill your collarbones with kisses, 

so you may run your fingers through them when I'm not there

A reservoir of memory.

I'm so hung up on the idea that things could have been so different

I need to get over that before I can talk to you

ABCs

I wish I could sing you

I wish I could sing you out like a sad song in my head

love

love

love

love

discovery

ache

ache

ache

ache

a dull throb of memory

a bitch

a scream of a reflection

laughter mocking me like an echo

an echo in my shell

heat seeps in and rests her hands around my neck

is she flirting of trying to kill me

reaching so close to this

like Icarus mocking the sun

but whatever happens will happen to me

my shell melts and I fall into the ocean

she won't; 

the heat won't let go of me.