poetry, writing

Elevator of Memories

I have a bunch of memories

With details too vague to fully grasp

They all share the same progression

An insignificant thing. A fight. A bruise.

An apology that never really followed through.

 

With every re-enactment of this story

I would lose a little piece of me

I became a little more numb

With each new purple badge

Adorning my skin

 

I would promise myself

“Never again”

Every night when my body hurt

When I cried myself to sleep

“Never again”

 

Nevertheless,

Anticipating another time

Preparing another piece to die

Saying another goodbye

In the fear of uncertainty

 

(Dreading the day I say goodbye to the last piece of me)

 

The last time I bruised,

Was the last time I was me

With those blows

My glass like self shattered

Something inside me had

died.

 

No I don’t remember it like

It was yesterday

It’s just roughly cut up reality

Bits and pieces of hurt,

Little bolts of immense pain.

 

(I felt like a placid rag doll.

Tossed aside. Beaten down. Unwanted)

 

When the elevator dinged

I walked out

Carrying the procession of my spirit

Its corpse lying

On a bed of pain and hurt

 

I left behind who I used to be

In the corner of that very elevator

At 2 in the night.

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poetry, writing

Home Alone

A lone traveler

Wanting to settle

That’s what you told me

When we met that night

 

You asked me if I had

A place to stay

“Would you stay a long time?

Would you stay?” I asked.

 

You gave me a small smile and said

“I would love to stay”.

So I showed you,

A little rustic

A little broken

With a few cracks

Healing with time

I showed you my prized possession.

 

“Beautiful” was all you said.

It was at this point

That my house gave a little flutter

Letting you in

Allowing you to get comfortable.

 

“This is my beautiful house

I hope to make it a home

The rent’s not much,

Only presence for a couple of hours a day.

The maintenance is a little work

It needs attention and love

Will you be okay with it?”

I asked, a little vulnerable

A little shy

 

You nodded, with a small smile

Making yourself comfortable,

You left your footprints on the carpets

Along with your scent in the sheets.

 

“I have a few ground rules”

I said suddenly

Reacting to the caution sign

Lit up in my brain

 

“1. Take good care of the house.

It is the only one I have

Its foundation, the comfort you find here

Took years and a thousand tears to make”

 

A little unsure

But you agreed.

 

“2. Don’t change anything.

Repair the cracks if you can

But don’t change the way it is.”

 

I see you hesitate,

Nod,

Shuffle a little closer to the door.

 

“Lastly, don’t let your past lovers in

Through the back gates or secret alleyways.

My heart is a beautiful house

But it cracks easily.”

 

In a flash,

You’re gone

And me?

I’m home alone

Again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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poetry, writing

Natural Jigsaw

Nature has that one child whom everyone loves despite the pain and misery it would cause. That child is love. This piece is about two people, who are brilliant individuals but they no longer fit together.

 

A mountain goat and a lion

They did not belong together

But the thread of love

Wound them close

Till they both felt like one

 

Young, sweet

Naïve love

Didn’t realize that it paired up

A predator and a prey

Love was always too free-willed

To obey even nature’s laws

 

Love only thought from the heart

Love only thought about the heart

Nothing else matters to love

It only did what it thought

The heart wanted

 

But nature doesn’t work like that

So, nature did

What nature does

The prey and the predator

The lion and the goat

They cannot be together.

 

The mountain goat used to work hard

The puissant lion had forgotten to hunt

but can a predator ever leave his ways?

The lion’s weight used to crush the goat’s dreams

She lay on the ground, unable to do what she loved

 

Her life’s purpose was to travel,

She wanted to explore

Nothing mattered to her more than her dreams

The lion was a family guy,

He wouldn’t interact much but

He needed everyone around

 

The goat felt suffocated under his paws

She felt she couldn’t reach her true potential

She wasn’t cut out for the subdued life

The lion. However, couldn’t let her go

Not so easily

 

They deluded themselves

Claimed that it was all a part of love

However, the thread of love

Had developed far too many cuts

It just couldn’t keep holding

The prey and the predator together.

 

I have long forgiven them

My human versions of the lion and the goat

Because I understand

Their lives require different jigsaw pieces

Pieces of happiness that would complete them.

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poetry, writing

Grieving for myself

They all say

I’m sorry for your loss

But how do I explain

what I truly lost

 

How do I let them know?

That I lost myself

Somewhere down the line

When I was too busy

Being the hollow shell of a person

I had become

 

They all say

you’ll find someone better

But who’s better for me

Than me?

 

How do I replace what I was?

With someone I don’t even recognize

Someone who’s smile doesn’t quite reach their eyes

Someone who can’t seem to belong even in a crowd

Someone who overthinks to a point that her head feels it would explode

 

How do I replace the cheerful, loving, caring, beautiful me?

Who I used to love and adore?

With this self-loathing, under-confident, empty and sad being

Who I can’t even look in the eye?

 

They all say

It gets better with time

But time took me away

Away  from myself

And left me with a stranger

Who I just can’t bring myself to love

 

Because she doesn’t feel like me

She doesn’t smile like me

The lopsided grin with crinkled eyes

It all seems so ingenuine and transitory.

 

I hope time does make things better

I hope time brings me back to myself

I hope I get to be happy

Again

Because I can’t wait to fall in love with myself

Again.

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poetry

Days of blue

blue.

a color so beautiful and yet used to describe the negative feelings in a human being.

the blue skies try

mixing the oranges and the pinks

trying to create a sunset

to liven up the gray inside

till it gets overpowered by the ash of who i used to be

 

i look at the light blue of my walls

the ocean of thoughts found in it

the sticky notes , trying to add color

bring positivity in my life

 

 

my walls call out to me

invite me to party

till me feet can’t dance anymore

till they feel as heavy as the cement in the walls

 

they squeeze my boundaries

suffocate and choke me in them

the prison in the walls

created by my mind

 

their blue feels lonely without mine

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poetry, writing

Sorry

I’m tired

I’m tired of trying t live up to your expectations

I’m tired of trying to be good enough for your love

I’m sorry I can’t be my little sister

I’m sorry I’m not worthy of your love

You may deny it

You may disagree

But in my heart od harts

I know

You are like this only with me

Only because you can’t love me

Maybe one day

I’ll know your reasons

Maybe understand you even

 

I like to believe

That maybe once upon a time

You loved me

But I must have gone wrong somewhere

Obviously

Or I wouldn’t be getting hurt

By the on

Who is supposed to be

Always by my side

I’m sorry dad.

I’m sorry I couldn’t be your girl

I’m sorry I am not good enough.

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poetry, writing

Beach Body

Not long ago

I felt a shift inside

The high tides of euphoria

No longer rested on the sandy shore

Of my heart

 

There was a pull

Deep inside

Breaking the strings of my guitar

Stopping

The melody of my rib cage

 

You had come onto the beach

And brought with you

High tides and waves

That filled my glass like veins

With the sweet nectar of happiness

 

But then

You left me

Surrounded by low tides

That eroded the shore of my heart

And filled me with a melancholy vibe

 

No longer did my guitar strum

No longer did people stay

On my sandy beach

And my glass like veins carried only poison now

Slow as lead

And even more painful

Than death.

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