Space

Space is precious

Space is self-defined

Space is yours

and who you allow

in your space is precious

in your space is self-defined

in your space is yours.

 

Sometimes, the power of words raise me up

Sometimes, the power of words is too strong – it breaks me.

Am I allowed in your space?

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Time Heals

“Time heals” is the most outright optimistic euphemism one can think of

when going through a period of turbulence,

a prolonged moment of absolute chaos

seemingly suspended in a time paused –

where you the subject are static, but everything rushes by you.

You reach out your arms and you scream silent screams.

You try to grab hold of it, of anything,

and it just all seems completely out of reach –

out of your control.

“Time heals” assumes that there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, but it’s useless

when the tunnel is opaque – it’s solid. You’re moving,

but it’s an absolute void.

You still get the motion sickness, but you’re not in motion.

Your feet deeply rooted to a bed of empty clouds. Stuck.

Held down by nothing with the force of everything

Floating, sinking. Sickening.

“Time heals” but wounds do not disappear without leaving a nasty itch.

You pick at it, you stare at it, you pick at it – why is it not disappearing?

And sometimes you keep scratching away in desperation and you drift further away from making it disappear – it leaves a scar, instead.

“Time heals” but it’s not a beautiful, calming process.

“Time heals” but you have to be prepared to ride the waves – or drown in it.

You have no control.

Let go.

Stop latching on.

“Time heals” is a mantra. “Time heals time heals time heals,” over and over you mutter and chant and you subjugate to the forces.

“Time heals” your perception of distortion, but you have to believe – a mantra only works its magic if you believe.

“Time heals time heals time heals time,” – but does time heal time? Time is a cannibal.

Time swallows itself and digests itself and disappears, itself.

“Time heals” but how much time?

You are here and now and you will never be in the past, and you will never be in the future.

You are here.

Now.

And time heals.

assume

left blindsided, i can only assume

and there’s so many things left

to my imagination

diffused ability to perceive the truth

what is it, really

dispersed focus.

 

brushed off, i can only assume

and often times it’s hopeful

but sometimes it’s plain

awful.

 

smoke and mirrors, i can only

exhume past memories

with a breath of fresh life

stronger now than ever

words written about you

being a wild cat hungry

of your cruel dual personality

of golden brown eyes

and wavy brown hair

of intense hugs

of 3 numbers and codes

my essential muse

like Leonardo’s immortal smile

words written by you

so few but plentiful

but i can only assume.

 

we’ve had our shared past and

we had our own past after that

i thought it was all past, that

it shouldn’t last.

 

bittersweet unrequited

maybe you’re fearful of

perilous schemes of

vulnerability but

i can’t just assume.

 

perhaps the timing’s not right

perhaps it won’t ever be right

perhaps just “not now”

perhaps, haphazardly.

 

god, i miss you

 

stubborn, unwilling, selfish

self-victimizing, self-inflicted, selfish

i try not to be but i try

all i can,

still, i am self-consumed

unreasonably confused

stubbornly refused

i continue to assume.

 

you want to make your mark on this world

to be independent, to be successful

to prove to yourself you are all that you are

you’re not ready

i’m too intense

you want to love yourself

i want to love you

you don’t need it

i can’t stop giving it

you’ll take it

 

i know i get impatient

overtly sentient

 

i don’t take for granted

and i hope you don’t

that in my mind,

you are beautiful

and i love you

 

in love with you

i am in love with you

and that is all i know

but this love has me worried

has me completely unsure.

 

it seems like we are of different worlds

and perhaps our history has ruined any chance

of the future i dream of

 

for now, all i know is

i’m completely in love with you

and no one seems to be near as beautiful

 

and i know my words can seem flowery at times

but i can’t dress this up even if i wanted to

i just want to tell you, i’m in love with you

plain and simple, i wish

 

but it’s not plain

perhaps it could be simple

 

i think about you everyday

and everyday i hold back

from telling you these words

afraid it would sound cheap

 

but i just want you to know

i am in love with you.

 

cliches have never been more genuine

not a day goes by that i don’t wish

you were here to share it with me

to laugh at silly things, mostly each other

to try new things, and share stories

to just have time to adore you for all that you are

that timid smile drawn from beautiful lips

shining eyes ever so sincere

and to hold your hands and feel like home

to snuggle up in bed at the end

or beginning

or all parts of the day

and snooze away

 

when i walk around this strange new city

appreciating everything for the first time

my mind constantly wanders to you

 

but that sense of naive romanticism

is often bitterly followed by a pang of pragmatism

sour, lack of self worth

i’m not _________ enough

 

but i’ll indulge in my dreamy thoughts

because you make me happy

and i’m in love with you.

 

 

 

Disposable

I’m sorry

Perhaps I should’ve learnt to read the signs

I should’ve seen things for what they were

And not as how I’d always wanted it to be instead

Because in my mind we were beautiful

And everything I ever wanted came in the shape of you

Lovely, wonderful and smart. Sunshine.

Driven, confident and beautiful.

But maybe I should’ve understood that you have choices

A choice to say no to what’s not the best for you

And I should’ve understood that maybe I was never the best

And I could never be, sworn in by name.

A choice that was never made by me.

I’m sorry.

I’m upset.

My love isn’t cheap – please don’t treat it like it is.

I’m not disposable.

We Start and End at the Start – In

I can promise you the world and I can

give you all that I have to give

and you will be happy and you

will be miserable at times too, and will

you be okay with that, or are you

not the kind who’s up for that, not

one who has patience, for someone

like me, imperfect in every way, like

different worlds, one who struggles to be indifferent

cares too much about the little things and cares

way too much about the big things, lost his way

sometimes, but never stops looking, all the time,

won’t give up, till he gets what he wants.

 

You will feel like the most important person, and you

would know that it’s because you are, in my world

see, someone like me, we don’t let people in,

so easily, so deeply, so vulnerably, so

 

I promise you the world,

and I will give all I can give,

You will be happy,

and miserable at times.

 

Most importantly,

I’ve let you in.

It’s Been A While

Catch twenty and two

a bad habit hard to break

The familiarity is a welcome distraction

Daily conversations, daily appreciation,

Comes with frustration, too.

 

Let go – drop

Falling down the gaping hole suddenly

opened up from the concrete ground

dizzy, semi-conscious, drowsy

and at times I wake up catch myself and I hold on to the sides

and I try to climb back up

but I just keep falling.

 

So quickly.

 

A day is only a day

when the sun has risen and set

and I have talked to you.

Incomplete, otherwise.

 

And a break in that routine;

breaks me.

 

And words seem to carry a new kind of weight

And language is so beautiful when used with you

And maybe I’m completely blinded

because I see things not as I had always seen them

rosy, dreamy filters — everything’s just so much nicer.

 

For so long, I looked around me and I wondered

how people were able to commit, for so long

I wondered who could be so fulfilling

Who could be “enough” for another

and I liked that control but you

take that away but I

could be so happy with you

But it’s so scary but

you make me feel

I want to wait, and see you

and validate

I’ll wait

and perhaps for the first time, commit.

 

We’ve both grown and gone down

different paths life has shown us

of course, maybe we aren’t what we think

we are of each other

illusions, wishful thinking and

too many maybes,

but I’m not naive – just that

I look forward to making it work.

 

I don’t want to lose you again

And so I’ll try, and just enjoy this sweet ride

where ever it takes me

although I know that

maybe, it’s all just pure fantasy.

 

Maybe, we’re just meant to be

you as you and

me as me,

not as collective, we.

 

But I’ll wait and see.

Unfortunately

And that’s the difficult part

We stop and we start

And perhaps there isn’t even

A ‘we’ – just me, slowly realising.

 

I have been

Placed to hold a space

Vacant until the next

Temporary, but still I chase

Curated and deliberate texts.

 

It never breaks even,

rarer is love that is equal

Maybe it’s done as a favor while

Foolishly hoping for a sequel

 

And it’s difficult to feel

a deep sense of insecurity

suddenly come to reality

as a reminder of history.

 

And you say he should appreciate

That it’s an honor and a privilege

I wonder if it’s too early or too late

Do I run or stay and wait

feeling inadequate.

 

Consistency is the key

Sometimes I don’t see that in me.

Feeling somewhat unworthy

Figuratively, literally – unfortunately;

 

I’m pretty into you.

 

 

Cryptic

Thank you for the memories

 

Time has passed since, but still

You make me feel things and I’m not entirely sure.

 

I am reminded

A light rekindled

Fade out

 

I close my eyes and I can trace your smile

With your glowing eyes and subtle lips

That gently curves and I am taken

in, perfection.

 

I do adore you.

 

But when I say you’re beautiful

I don’t mean what others can see too

 

Yes, I am smitten and

Maybe it is the idea of you

No

 

You say it’s a phase

 

Yes, maybe it is,

No.

 

I worry that you aren’t willing

As I am, but then am I

I’m yet to know

 

But memories that lingered come alive now strong and vivid

Pulled out from the archives, the tracings come to life

And I follow them back to the moments I wish we had more of

Those memories, center stage and foreground, I smile

Background though, times when I could’ve, should’ve done more

Or done less.

I digress.

 

I was selfish.

 

Where are we now

Take it slow now

Here we are, now

 

We tiptoe

A dance

 

My words staccato

Encrypted nonsense

 

Disturbed flow

 

But none can match

How you make me use my words

And I love that, I do

 

And I know that, I’m lucky

I know you won’t admit it

At least not with words

 

I know that your words

Are reserved

 

Jumping, mischievous, curious

Cheeky and flirty words

For casual walks and fun dances

 

Episodes of yours

The drama, queen

Calling on your crew

Am I right guys?

 

Or otherwise for dark nights

Words of intense gravitas

Rarely are they conjured

Special when they are

Of intense hurt

Its rarity is good.

 

And you make me use my words.

 

I wish you were here

So our hands could meet

Like they did that night

 

I hadn’t felt such electricity since.

 

Our eyes could meet and

Our souls could speak

 

My hands placed on your hips

And we could dance

 

Lightly, furiously

Floating, skimming

Liquid movements

 

And I wish you were here so

 

We could dance

With more than just our words.

 

Swallow

I would swallow my words, but
it wouldn’t make me any less hungry
less thirsty for more, no it wouldn’t be
satisfying.

I would swallow my words, but
I would need something to wash it down with
water, wine, tea or coffee, or simply bravery
to keep it down
wash it down
hold it down
stay down.

I would swallow my words, and
I have many times before, but
it never tastes as good as
how good it smells, as
how good it looks, as
how I imagined it, but
I swallow, like
I have many times before, but
Sometimes I swallow without chewing, and
Sometimes it gets stuck in the back of my throat, and
Sometimes I’m just really not hungry but it’s forced down anyway, and
I swallow.

I would swallow my words, but
you see, what scares me,
and it is scary, you see,
more often than not
my words swallow me.