Sayonara

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Photo Credit: Taken by @snarksparkle on Instagram

Performed at Blu Jaz Cafè for the Luna/tic Poetry Slam (Open Mic), hosted by Word Forward. Performance found here.

Your fingertips leave my body
Like grains of sand cascading over a boulder
Gently we part, your lips still lingering over mine
We smile. No more love poems.

I’m falling and crashing into the asphalt pavement
The rain is cracking down on my exposed spine
Never have I felt this much pressure on my hands to
Get up, get up, let go of your ghost-

How often do we get to live like this?
Your hair falls around you as you toss a giggle over your shoulder
I catch your hand and we leap off a cliff into the sea,
Happily, everything falls and settles.

The wave hits me like an angry mother
She crams her salt-riddled palm down my throat
99 paper roses and a pocket full of heart
I feel the pull of the tide and my lungs are-

Softly, your fingertips are dancing over my chest
Platonic plates shift and fall back into place
You are so-

Why is it that I am crying over the last petal as it falls away from the 99th paper rose
Did you know that I stayed up late to make them for you?
When I told you I love you did you know how much it hurt to admit that?
My bones are breaking from letting go of you.

I want to be in love with you.
We float above the Dead Sea like otters
The salt stinging our wounds as our fingers seperate and mend
Alone, is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever tried to be.

I wish you would stay the night, just this once
I hang on to the bits of you that you’ve left in my room,
Screaming my sorrow for the lost emotion in my body
The fluttering in my chest took off from my aching heart.

Loving you was the most unselfish thing I had ever done.
I wonder if letting go
Would be the kindest thing I’d ever do.

Dead To Me

Pictured: My Ball-Jointed doll, Mindy. 

Submitted on Day 26 of #SingPoWriMo2017

She shimmered under the moonlight, your fingertips brushed over her rivers and valleys, the dip and rise of her mountains, forests and hills. And you breathed hot air on her neck, straining yourself to fit your hands around all of her, trying to hold everything you wanted closer.

I like to think that she had died in your arms. It’s comforting, in a way, to know that she had disappeared together with my memory of you. I’d like to think of her self-destruction as the moment you took her into your arms.

Continue reading “Dead To Me”

Leaving Me

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Close the door on your way out, the draft will get out. It’s cold in here, so leave for better shores. Don’t stay to catch the rain, don’t go to waste your days.

Have your jacket back, you’d need it to survive the burning sun, remnants of broken glass, tread carefully on a concrete road laid out by stone-cold love.

Remember red hair, remember to smile. Don’t remember the bathroom floor, or fogged-up mirrors. Don’t remember the dress. Don’t remember the end.

Remember her in Polaroid photos, forget the hours spent making plans alone. Forget her body, how the curves bent around you to fit all your edges, all your needs. Remember his name. Remember that she was him.

Take back the person you were before, soldier on even before you become one. Hope that the next one isn’t him. Isn’t me.

Do not hate him for loving me, hate me for leaving. Do not spend time wondering if it was you who is hurt when your hatred for him scorches me, when the sight of us cuts into you, when my flayed skin melts from the sight of you.

Ask if we are still together and when I say yes, ask if I’m happy. Realise that I’m perfectly content without you. Realise that I don’t need you.

Take off the jacket, it’s burning outside. Arrive at the wedding, prepared to leave. Notice a girl. Or a boy, it doesn’t matter. Notice she’s been staring at you for some time. Ask if she wants to dance.

Forget my name, at 4am in the morning, when you remember her face, her voice, the shrill sound of alarm clocks. Hold on tight.

It’s not easy the close the door behind you. It’s easier to be hidden in the closet, wishing to be the one hidden in the sheets. But it’s hard to be the one between the sheets, fully clothed, haunted by the closeted memory.

The exit is stage right. Remember to eat properly. Remember to rest well. Remember to close the door as you leave. Don’t look back.

Please just leave.

To The Mourners

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Written 11/11/2016

You will sleep tonight.
The trees and the birds and the seas will let you rest tonight.
You, with your hands wrapped around theirs, around a bottleneck, will sleep tonight.
You will rest soundly, without worries, without fear, without shaking.

And you will wake. With your hands burning. And you will fight. With the strength you still have left in you. It is not over yet. You will fight tomorrow. You will live tomorrow. You will thrive again, and again, and again, and you will live out of spite tomorrow.

But tonight, you will sleep.
You will rest tonight.
You will sleep tonight.
You will sleep tonight.

VI

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For the girl who loved him, and hated me for loving him.

His footsteps are earthquakes ringing in my ears,
And adrenaline runs higher and higher with every step.
There is a rush that comes with freedom, with anti-gravity,
One that only I can know.

And you, half-blind, scrawl curses into my name,
Wishing for something you cannot have,
For the thing I refuse to let go of,
Not to posess but to protect.

Continue reading “VI”