You have not known what you are.
You have slumbered upon yourself all your life.
Your eyes have been as much as closed most of the time.
What you have done is already in mockeries.
The mockeries are not you.
Underneath them
And within them,
I see you lurk...
You have slumbered upon yourself all your life.
Your eyes have been as much as closed most of the time.
What you have done is already in mockeries.
The mockeries are not you.
Underneath them
And within them,
I see you lurk...
-Walt Whitman
13.10.15
when words fail us
THIS is what I fear. When words finally fail us, and they fall in some pit of silence, through some cracks, unspoken and gathering dust. They fester with the decay of time, hidden but reeking the air we breathe. We don’t know how to say them, not anymore. We have forgotten how.
12.10.15
don't mess with a writer
HE CAN make you bleed with just a constellation of words and you would not be able to do anything about it, inflict lacerations, ripping at surfaces where it is most painful.
11.10.15
free space
TO MISS YOU is to search for you in the muted colors of the day, underneath faint shadows, behind the misty summer sunlight. You are that wisp of cloud lying exactly where the day perfectly blends into night, or that lone chord - a musical phrase I hear, eyes closed, in the incessant hum of the engine of the bus I’m on. Because to miss you is too look for and find you in the most mundane of things, to sigh out an insignificant breath, desperate for your words to take in instead, deeply, until they reach that free space where I have always looked and have kept you.
10.10.15
details
I HAVE THIS IMPULSE to break you into tiny little pieces, into dust particles I would watch in wonder as they settle, slowly, in my hands. How blunt, faint is your shadow on a wall, in half-light, against the darkness that surrounds us. I find loneliness in the fact that I haven’t memorized your hands yet; these fingers longing for your fingers to fill the spaces in between. Allow me and you will linger, safe within the confines of the written word. Bask in a time when the moles on your skin will cease as stains and become the only stars I will ever see, mapping them with my own. Can you imagine how our night sky would look like? Look up. We are two universes colliding as love pulsates in every click and strain of bones. I will love you, break you, into million minute details just to paint a still and exact image of how significant and how big you really are.
9.10.15
of pens and permanence
I USED A PEN when I decided to love you. No touch and go. Every right, every wrong is permanent. No regrets. It’s messy, yes. But I was and am alive. I am saved knowing I have loved true.
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