we bully clouds now to pass the time away

We never forgot the day we found out that water is not blue. After years of believing we loved the colour of water, it turned out we loved nothing. After centuries of postcard- blue oceans, and the near-black lakes that lulled us into fits of poetry, and waterfalls that thawed us into being romantic, we found out they were lying. As we grew up we grew old and tired, hunched with the realisation that nothing was as beautiful as we thought.

Suddenly everything was a lie. People died, dog-heaven was a dusty dump behind an old windmill and horses never could fly. Our gunned-down heroes never came back to life, adultery wasn’t really a sin and ‘I do’ lasted only as long as it was convenient.

We stood, smoking outside the hospital. And I turned my back but never really walked away, even though we knew something had changed. Your eyes were black and blue and violet as you turned back to me. The tears, of course, were clear. Neither white nor blue, just a ghostly liquid spelling out whatmighthavebeens down your cheek.

I thought I should tell you, I slept with your best friend.

remember when i moved in you?

The words... the words escape me. And it’s like my very breath out of reach. It’s like my breath left with you, left me behind because it was no longer interested in moving through a shell.
It’s like my bones are dried up paintbrushes, trying desperately to move but leaving streaks of useless red all over the earth.
It’s like my thoughts have crumbled into ash. The memories are running away and all I want it to write a book but they are melting from my mouth like dirty water.
It’s like the songs are silent. The songs, once filled with you, are now silent with suffering.
It’s like I’m on drugs. I know something is happening, I know it’s bad and something tells me it might be the wrong choice, but right now it seems like the right one. But I don’t know exactly what is happening. The shapes shift so fast that my life is the hallucination of a rollercoaster.
Remember that night I hallucinated? That night I was alone, and I dreamed up reindeer and composers and big black birds turning into smoke as I gasped them into my lungs?
Remember that night we drove to nowhere and back, and said everything we needed to say?
Remember that night when we were all alone?
Remember all those next mornings?
The words... I cannot write them. And since you left I am simply writing a book about not writing.

i'm not okay, i promise

I never thought I would cry when I first saw you again.
But I did. Unashamedly and without knowing why, I told everyone what our silence was about.
And I cannot stand this deafening silence, nor the sight of you, tearing the tangled sinews and veins ridden with blood red grief right out of me.
I wanted to fall down on my knees and scream at you, and beg whoever was listening for an answer.
Down on my knees on the broken brick road that led me nowhere,
the yellow stains on my finger nails spoke of the bad decisions I blamed on you.
I didn’t even know if it was tears or rain, but my knees were weak with walking, even when you held my hand.

So here we stand, miles apart. But I can smell your breath on me all the time,
And the cigarettes all taste like you.
Here we stand, between one end and whatever happens next.
Here we stand, not knowing how to step forward, wanting to fall backwards and float away into nothingness.
But maybe I would rather feel pain than to feel nothing at all, because to me the opposite of love was never hate, but indifference.
I stood in the rain and watched you leave under that wholly unromantic half moon, and I remembered everything.
I am yellow. I am branded a coward in my own eyes.
A streetcar named me Liar.

you can only take what you can carry

To me, you were the rainy days I loved so much.

To me, you were the weather that mirrored my insides.

To me, you were ten seconds older than what had just gone wrong.

To me, you were mere minutes of laughter that hurt my cheeks for days to come.

To me, you were a butterfly pulse next to mine.

To me, you were crooked teeth and a dusty moonlit mile.

Whether I was mountains or clouds, to me you were the endless road leading there.

To me, you were not right, nor wrong.

To me, you are blue and red.

i don't remember you looking any better

The glass shards of my thoughts flitted across my mind’s sky like broken blackbirds. I was dreaming about that dream. That dream I could feel happening as you pushed me against a wall and forced my desires wide open.

And then I lay, writhing, in front of those double doors. I wrote you my best lines each night, and never once stopped listening to you, even when I was dying. I was dying of the pain of wanting to speak, to scream, to push my mouth over yours so you would just shut up.

And now, on this double-digit day that belongs only to you, I remain locked in our dream. I am dancing in the rain with my dreamer. There is a red dress, and there is music. And somewhere in all of the confusion there is a maybe.

full of broken thoughts i cannot repair

I sat in the shower, the tiles colder than the rest of me. I let the water run over me, pretending it was you. I made believe I was washed with your words, that it was your thoughts cascading down my body from my head, through my short hair you never liked much. I imagined the burning heat on my neck was the run of your hands I never liked to touch my shoulders or feet. I talked softly to myself, and convinced my mind it was you, reassuring me.

I sat there until the water became cold. It was, in fact, exactly like you. And the only thing that was only you was the small streams cutting through the fresh water, the rivulets that ran down my cheeks to drip onto my bare feet.

I’m too tired to explain. I don’t have the strength. Can we do it in the morning? I will beg.

my history's in a box, wrapped up in a pretty blue light.

Those were our days.

But these, these are our streets. The dizzying height of our memories makes my head spin, but at least the memories are still here.

These are our songs, the ones we sang to one another and the ones that made us write our stories more beautifully than before.

This is our work; you, visible in every inch of it. I didn't want you to go, but now I wish I could erase your presence that still lingers in very part of my existence.

I have to go now, or I'll be late for whatever is next.

But I am here.

it's like you smiled and shook my hand and said 'hey, I'm about to screw you over big time'

I meant when I said I love you. But in the moment I said I hate you, I meant it too.

I hate every single one of you who made promises, who made me feel safe and happy and secure. For making me feel better after crying, for making me feel dead after goodbye.

My fear is that, bit by bit, I give myself to people. And people always leave. But they leave with that piece in their pocket. And eventually, I will having nothing left. I will have nothing left to give to the person who deserves everything.

Do not wonder why I hate you. Do not wonder why I walk away when I see you, why I stop breathing when I think of you. I loved you, I love you, but it seems you've all thrown me away.

My tears always came more slowly than the words, the thoughts and the actions.

it feels so different this time 'round

This room. This empty room. These white walls. These bloody walls. This silent heart.
This heat. This frost. This inexplicable desire to say yes. This knowing. This confusion.

This beat. These footsteps. These silent sounds of a naked journey. These hands.
These songs. These melodies. These notes that make my heart bleed. This blood.

These memories. This nostalgia. This melancholy screaming at me.
This pen. These swords. This perpetual struggle stretching my skin.

This view. These bars.
This clock. Those words.

Only this.