“Just don’t touch him”
He leaves eventually,
uncomfortable by my presence
and I beg my lungs to burst,
polite as one could be,
but they don’t.
Never do, these fuckers.
Where did we go wrong?
Come back, talk to me.
I was told love was pure.
Love was kisses on the cheek,
hugs from behind when you didn’t expect them.
Love was not locking the door,
just if love wanted to see you.
Love was caring,
when no one else was.
Love was all there was sometimes.
Love was forgetting your friends,
but making sure your love was smiling.
Love was dreams sometimes,
waking up to the truth;
it didn’t exist anymore.
Love was not going to bed,
because you’re sickly in love with seeing their face every night.
Love was pure pain sometimes.
and I ought to say I
I loved you today.
Your hair was a mess
and your eyes were unfocused
and you pulled me closer.
I loved you yesterday.
Your hair was flatter
at least to some extent.
I talked too much
you didn’t talk at all,
and you didn’t answer the door
when I came to my senses.
I will love you tomorrow.
You don’t think about your hair
the way I do.
And you will be angry
Pull me close
just to push me away.
But I will love you.
Because the leaves were all changing
and the traffic kept rushing.
And I was still stuck in the way his eyes shone,
whenever he laughed.
They really got to you, didn’t they?
Pushing you on towards the edges
tore apart your broken mind.
Now all you hear is chaos,
a beating drum within the ground.
Step in here, darling,
come in close, and closer still.
In you there is a fire,
and I won’t let this one be still.
Come on now, stand before me,
stretch your arms towards the sky.
I’ll stay here, yes, right behind you.
Take the step, you’ll be alright.
A wind came along hurling words in my mind,
now I’m drumming the pen on the paper.
Scared of what now may leak if I get it all out,
so I get up and out and I run.
I fall in love with pieces,
smaller pieces of their being
perks and quirks and qualities
I’m scared the world is still not seeing.
Like the way he sang along to songs
he’d never before heard.
Or the way that he knew everything,
then cried in my arms at night.
Or how he saw me beautiful
when no one else could do it.
But listen to me, please. It was dark.
They were dead.
There was no life.
I have read somewhere that darkness is just a lack of light, so I turned around and looked for light.
Made eye-contact with the security guard outside the bar.
He raised his eyebrows at me.
I shook my head.
I kept on walking, drunken laughter behind me.
“I don’t miss it”, I thought, I turned up the volume to my headphones.
Rounded a corner, past a couple of teenagers. Made sure I didn’t made eye-contact with them, too. I don’t want to know of their liveliness, or lack thereof.
Darkness is just a lack of light.
Where are you?
“What are you doing?”
“I’m writing, Mom.”
“What are you writing?”
“I – I don’t know.”