to the floor.
a moment ago
my mind was
cannot reach. it was
You and I are two parallel lines.
Practically speaking, we can never meet.
Theoretically, we do at infinity.
Where is infinity?
How do you get there?
How can you stay there?
my infinity is where the heart is
where no one can take things away from us.
We cannot reach within our own hearts.
We only know they beat inside us
while belong to somebody else.
Mine is yours,
and so I will not lose it.
You will never lose it.
If one day yours, too, became mine,
we would no longer be parallel lines.
He quickly forgot to hold her hands the way she loved it.
Who remembers those things after having stained the sheets?
The pain keeps turning her like a leaf in the wind
not seeing where it comes from,
or where it will go, for all it knows,
is being swirled away in a state of chaos.
Her sense of right and wrong was dislocated,
as she keeps thinking back of how good things feel,
forgetting that one is not supposed to cling onto memories
of sensations. They delude you, make you ignore,
turn you away from seeing
where exactly it hurts.
She resists from calling him to not appear
desperate. Needy. Clingy. Anxious.
He is given more freedom than he needs,
which slightly surprises him.
Perhaps she does not care either.
Their twisted sense of communications
has brought the relationship
to where two people are not meant to be.
It is where the sex is incredulously fantastic,
while the non-sex is incredibly empty.
Why have our lips been cold,
and kisses taste like stale coke?
Why has our skin not changed,
but the touch has got so rough?
Why are our eyes the same,
but the irides have turned dark?
Why do we stop playing games,
holding hands, walking in the park?
Why are our sweet letters gone,
and spoken words have become rare?
Why do you still stay with me,
when you want to be elsewhere?
Why can’t we fall out of love
the way that we fell in?
The silence hanging above
put us in love’s coffin.
I wish you would tell me
about someone you met.
Things you once did for me,
now make her cheeks turn red.
when I woke up this morning,
you had been half way there on the train
away from this
away from me.
you would have been writing,
thinking, contemplating, arguing.
pages would be filled up,
like your heart, and I
would keep wondering
what you wrote.
I have nothing to hold on to
but your words, and letters
you sent me. I read them,
had every word memorized,
learned the rhythm and tone,
so I could hear your voice.
I find the deepest pain and the brightest joy
in your creations.
I long to know what you see with your eyes,
how you think with your mind,
how you make love with your body,
how you live in the world with your ego.
I would have left my world for ours,
in a heartbeat. I recognized you
the first time we met. Why can’t we
run after our desires, live a life
we truly like, have our dreams
Why can’t we become
whom we truly are?
You are what I want,
I am what you want,
why in the world
can’t we be together?
I want to fall in love, stay in love, die in love,
to have you here right by me,
to feel you from inside me.
And that smile on your face
and this smile on mine
will forever shine.
I did not try to forget you.
At the end of my day,
as I was crashing on my bed,
your voice was resounding in my head,
Don’t fall asleep in your work clothes.
The scent of food you made in my kitchen
the aroma of your face, after-shave
the angle your lips formed with a smile
the long fingers tracing down my face
– they were still there,
as if you’d never gone away.
Why are you still thinking about him?
He wasn’t worth it
Of course he was the whole time we spent together.
Lovers know best how long is forever.
Those moments I had with him,
he was worth every one of it.
The streets, the highways, the mountains, the sea
Rain, snow, winds, moon, sunrises, sunsets
We walked, we ran, we drove, we flew through them all.
Until now I cannot get used to the emptiness
of my hands.
The blinds of my window haven’t changed,
you said you liked them, for they blocked
glances from those highly unwelcome.
Thus when we made love, they were never up.
They have remained there after you left.
and so did the sun.
And so did my attempt
to forget everything about you.
It does not concern me whether you are here.
To me you are a matter of fact.
To me you are intact.
To me you love me still.
And no matter how much he claimed he loved her with every piece of his existence,
he was always busy between 6 and 8 p.m. every Tuesday
8:30 p.m. every Tuesday, when he got home, he would
go straight to the hot bath she had prepared for him. She would like him
to do that before seeing her and kissing her, so he
would smell like sweet lavender, and she
would smell like whatever served at dinner
And Mama said children of strength never cried in front of others, for
tears proved a lack of control. I asked, did you not cry
when you saw me for the first time? She said,
no, I restrained from screaming, and I was
With a smile,
Ever since, happiness to me
is the emptying of a stuffed stomach.
in the swollen summer days, the pressure
of what is coming to an end, the silent chaos
of the surroundings, and
the strange comfort of the new wind
completely took over everything else.
hence the slow details of day-to-day occurrences.
for there seemed to be no transition between day and night,
and light was slowly dipping into darkness,
and darkness was gently unfolding on light.
the intertwined arrays of sunshine on the clouds,
the fading sunset,
the smoke fondling the moon
all happened. all vanished.
when the eyes closed and opened
they anticipated the same thing,
and so they were served.
the aftertaste of a night’s vivid creations was sweet
like memories that were created to haunt for a lifetime.
what was remembered and
what was forgotten
all blended together.
thus past wounds were healed,
laughs were concealed behind lips,
and time was dissolved into air
to sink them all, to rise them all,
to sew fantasies seamlessly into reality.
and maybe the dream would last,
from the juxtaposition of breath to breath,
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