Tango of shame
I am to blame
life slot starving
no such luck
dipping into soft jar
weary hand from afar
widen the road
stomp into ground
solution not found
slice the wind
lined in rows
no elbow room
let words fly
unhinge the strings
free thought rings.
For him my heart beats
Walk with me
So I walked beside him
Laugh with me
So I made a joke and laughed with him
Smell the flowers with me
So I picked a tulip and enjoyed its' scent with him
Jog with me
So I put on my running shoes and paced myself with him
Cry with me
So tears fell silently from my chocolate orbs
Please hug me
So I embraced him
Tell me I am not broken
So I caressed his face and show him his strength
Tell me a lie
So I held his hand and told him a truth
Will you sit with me
So I sat with him from morning to darkness
So we climbed a mountain and made it to the top
Show me love
So I showed him an elderly couple on a romantic date
So I kissed him softly on his cheek
Lay with me
So I laid my head on his chest
Sleep with me
So I fell into a deep slumber beside him
I have to leave
Please don't go
Time is up
Please, not yet
I will see you soon
Please don't forget me
I could never...
You have to let me go
But, I can't
Do you love me
Since the day my heart beat changed its' rhythm
Move on...Live for me
How do I live without your presence on this earth
I'll always be with you
The light is shining
So I kissed him with so much passion
I will see you again
Goodbye, my love.
Most people say they shoot for the stars and dream in the clouds. I'm tethered to the ground, bent over a well, straining for the specks that drift below in the dark mud water. Dreams don't send you high, they don't take you to dizzying heights of ecstasy. Not mine. It's dangling your arms over the barrier, contemplating if what you want is worth falling head-first into the unknown.
Because you know that those muddy specks in the well are not stars, and you could very well break your neck for a puddle.
If the universe
that we meet,
shall stop us
until we greet
till eyes are shining.
The years apart
by the touch
of our feet.
Onyx and Talc
In dark my heart
Talc can't touch the onyx
Onyx can't crush the talc
Some hearts can't contain two pieces
Sometimes I think
My heart can't
Pretty Luv Falters
Take my heart
In my hand
How it feels to grieve over something that ended one and a half years ago.
August 7th. That would have been his fifteenth birthday.
Honestly at this point, I don't know how to feel. I've been living day by day, fearing dates on the calendar.. August 7th, March 6th... when I hear his name a bolt of yellow lightning hits my chest and I can't breathe. I can't cry either. I don't cry. I'm past that point.
I'm at the point where I'm wondering how this whole thing started. Social studies class, 7th grade... months ago I revisited that classroom and the memories hit me like a speeding bus. When I looked over to the seat he used to sit in and saw a girl sitting there, I was overwhelmed with anger. How dare she sit where he had sat? He... someone I thought I loved....
...did I love him? Was I capable of love at age 12, age 13? The feelings were present, but when he died something inside me died. The world seemed virtually black and white to me, without his blue-gray aura and his yellow name, his bright yellow name. That bolt of lightning.
And how the hell have I healed? Seeing the school guidance counselor after saying something about suicidal thoughts I had in 8th grade, telling her I overreacted and it was nothing to worry about? Then seeing the school psychiatrist and saying cryptically "I wasn't ready to tell her everything yet"? Have I repressed these feelings of pain only to be met by a deluge of hurt, of destruction, of unreturned love?
God. And the worst part is, we were hardly friends. After that magical seventh grade year, I wrote him a note telling him I liked him or some shit and he didn't talk to me again. Some stupid, basic tragic love story. He never loved me. He died. March. 6th. 2016.
And it still.
A New Dream
I've been holding on to this fear and the denial of it for too long. It is about time that I let it go and that I no longer hold it so close to my heart. It may be impossible, but if it is I will not let it hold me back from a different future. I shall let it fuel me, if this goal is the one I will not meet in my life I will choose another. I will not be consumed by the darkness that the fear of failure brings down on me. As they say when one door closes another opens. I am not there yet, but if it comes down to it I think I have learned how I will let it go. I know it will not be easy for me, but I know it is possible. To let it go and move on to a future different from what I pictured before. Something different for me to find fulfillment from. A new dream.
“foolish as a rule”
Sometimes we make stupid decisions. Being human, almost forces you to take the wrong ones. As if we were supposed to get in trouble. But come on, in truth who doesn’t make mistakes? Exactly. If we didn’t, we wouldn’t be humans. We would be Gods. The great ones of the world. The true rulers. And I think it’s safe to say, that I am definitely not one of those gods. I’m foolish. I make wrong decisions. And as a consequence of that,
I tumble and fall. Usually on my face… or on my back. Either way my dignity suffers… leaving me bruised and bleeding.
To be honest, I kind of got used to the thought. Nobody’s perfect… and all that. Yeah,
I keep repeating myself. When you spend so much time being locked down, your mind starts to repeat itself. Because there’s not much that can really distract you… well, there is one thing that could distract me. One might even say a person… with a very big ego and destructive behaviors… towards others.
But since every conversation with the almighty one ended up with a fight… you understand my situation. So today I decided to be rebellious. Courage’s even. To show the bad guy what I’m worth. Alright… he wasn’t around. So… I decided to ditch my chambers… yeah, my center of excitement and joy. As I thought of this, I imagined myself holding a huge sign with the word Sarcasm written elegantly all over it, with an artistic font… for the effect, of course.
I smiled to myself. Insanity was very sneaky, it got to you when you weren’t looking.
The moment you started to consider yourself as a relatively normal person, Boom, you’re not. Get over it and look for a professional who can take care of you. Well, that’s how I felt at times. Being in my personal Hell, not much of a comfort. Therefore, what a better way to ignore your troubled mind, then to jump right into denial. Hand outstretched and a big, stupid smile on your face. It sounded good to me. I got up and went to seek something new. Whatever it turned out to be.
Faith still stands
Like the blackness of the armpits
Defying skin lightening creams
My Uncle Sees Dragons
My uncle sees dragons. He visits me all the time. Sometimes more unexpectedly than most! Today he appears at the door, his beard long and wavy, curling down to the floor. He whips out a monocle and stares down at me.
Despite both us of having perfect hearing, he yells, “Guess what I’ve seen!”
“What!” I cry, not knowing if his beard is real, what a monocle is, and why there’s a miniature hot air balloon tied to his back.
My uncle lowers his monocle and stares at me, his smiling face shifting suddenly serious, “I’ve seen a dragon.”
I stare in amazement, for what else can I do but be amazed?
“Dragon?” I repeat.
My uncle stands, and scoops me up in his arms, “A most ferocious dragon,” he says! “Most vile and voluptuous indeed!”
My Uncle strides in my house, and it vanishes. The couches turn to mossy hillocks and the walls into vast horizons. He tells me a tale of winged scales and flapping wings. He sings of patchwork canvas and thrashing thickets. He says he survived – but just barely.
I tear off his fake beard and we laugh until my mom takes me away and tells me, “There are no such things as dragons!”
I am four years old.
“My uncle sees dragons,” I say to my best friend at lunch time. The cafeteria is packed, and usually the other kids leave us alone. Most days we eat as fast as we can before running outside to play, but today is different.
I tell my friend, “My uncle visited me yesterday.”
She looks at me with her mouth full of food and I shove my new necklace in her face. “It’s a dragon’s tooth. A REAL dragon’s tooth,” I say haughtily as I swing it in front of her eyes. “Uncle says it keeps whomever holds it safe from all harm!”
I watch her face billow with amazement as I begin to tell her my uncle’s most recent story. She believes in dragons. The kids next to us do not.
“That’s not a dragon’s tooth!” The boy next to me squeals, his friends beginning to laugh.
“Yes it is!” I shout, my voice curling with flames and my teeth slick with venom.
The boy laughs with his friends, and the three of them shout in unison before waddling off outside, “There are no such things as dragons!”
I am twelve years old.
My uncle sees dragons. He hasn’t though, not for a while now. He hasn’t come by with stories since I’ve been back from college. Something about an accident. Mom says we can’t see him, at least not yet. I rub the dragon tooth around my neck, and think back to all of his silly antics.
“Don’t worry,” my mom says over her shoulder as she washes dishes. “The doctors say it’s temporary.”
“Stupid tooth, stupid dragons,” I say as I toss the necklace on the floor, wishing my uncle had never given it away. Not that it matters now. I think old hated words as I stare at the broken tooth and twisted fiber. “There are no such things as dragons.”
I am twenty three years old.
My Uncle sees dragons. He used too anyway. We drive to his new home.
“Home,” I say out the window with resentment as the wind blows my hair over swollen eyes.
My family is silent as we drive to where my uncle stays. My family is silent as we walk to the building and go inside.
My father hears squeaking, rapid and quick, like two metal rails slamming and banging on the tile. We rush to my uncle’s room and toss his door wide. We see him lowering in his chair as he slowly comes back down to a gentle rock.
He looks over at me, and for a brief moment...
I see a match! A flash! An explosion! My heart jumps up and pauses. Our eyes rise to the occasion once more - one last time.
Not even fifteen, ten, or five seconds since he halted his rickety wagon, I know my uncle had just seen a dragon!
My family begins to fill my vision as my uncle turns to face the window. My eyes catch the fading ribbons of a wavy shadow that grace the glass before him. Vanishing as quickly as it had come, I know it will not return.
“Finally,” I say aloud, “There are no such things as dragons.”
I am four years old.