They say it takes 21 days
to break a bad habit, yet
here I am, on day 202, my
mind and my heart are still
convinced that I need you.
202 days since I told you to
stay away from me, and I’ve
regretted it every single day.
202 accounts of whiplash,
of missing you like oxygen.
202 days of wishing I’ve never
had you. Then I wouldn’t be
reminded of you every time
I touch someone else.
I have made a sport out of confusing
the chronology of discovering you,
forgiving you, anticipating you,
and forgetting you. I have to accept
the fact that it’s over, and it’s time to
stop dragging your shadow like a
carcass around my shoulders,
thinking you’re still with me,
when you’re just a living memory,
still attached, umbilical.
And when I say hello,
what I mean is come back.
And when I say how are you,
it’s just my mouth making a
mess of the words “I miss you.”
And when I say I’m sorry, what
I mean is show me the handle
and I will help you carry it.
And when I say nothing,
when all I can do is listen,
when all I can do is breathe,
that’s when I mean I love you.
*I need you to breathe.
For #junefalls18 hosted by @breath_words_ and @a_sea_of_words_
When I say hey, it’s not just me checking up on you.
Hey meant I missed you. It meant how are you.
It meant how is your heart. It meant how is your smile.
It meant how is your mother. It meant do you still feel hurt.
It meant you can trust me with your woes. It meant I won’t pry,
but I will try to find out if you’re okay or not. It meant my
shoulders are wide enough if you need them. It meant my hands
are calloused but they won’t let go. It meant if you ever
needed to die, I will be your reason not to.
*For day 17 #theloveletterproject
I can’t say that I miss you,
it’s impossible to miss someone
who was never present to begin
with. Maybe it’s the possibility
of you that I miss,
the possibility of us.
I’ve held onto the concept of an “us” for so long that I’ve begun to lose my grip. That’s the thing about intangibles, you can’t really hold onto them, at least not for very long. They seep through the spaces between your fingers eventually, like vapor. Maybe it’s the holding on that I miss. It was all I ever had, after all.
*For Day 7 of #illogicalvalentinechallenge hosted by #illogicalpoemworld
like a double yellow line.
There is no crossing over.
There is no going back.
There is only moving
forward and rear-view
mirrors and waiting to crash.
Mornings are the w o r s t.
Somewhere between the sanctuary
of daybreak and awake, when I am Continue reading “Sanctuary”
That moment when you realize that
you badly want him to come back because
a part of the world has not moved since he left.