Posts Tagged ‘love’

all the lost things

03/10/2017

all i wanted was for you to mark me. i wanted you to bare your teeth at me and bite me, bruise my skin in black and blue from my neck to my thighs, and my spine. i wanted you to have me whole, to claim me as some ancient thing from immemorial times. i wanted you to grab me, put your arms around me, encase me.
(i always liked your weight on me.)

i wanted you to write on me so i could tattoo over the words and keep you on me at all times, so i could always touch with my fingertips what i meant to you, all those sweet things – i wouldn’t even regret it after everything was over between us.
(it would inevitably be over.)

“would you want to look forever at it? for other people to see it? why would you want to have it? it was never meant to be!” you’d ask me [if we still spoke to one another]. you’d call me mad, for sure, and hopeless and strange.

but really, how could i mind? how worse can it be to show on the outside what i somehow still feel? how can words to the world be any worse than the thoughts i carry in my head everyday, then the memories everyone has in their souls?

(it’s not painful. here, look at all these poems i already made for you. it is a process.)

a tattoo, in the end, is just a picture: a remembrance of a thing that will always be, a past that was a promise of everything, something i want to show everyone because, wether it failed or not, wether you like it or not, talk about it or not, it is part of who i am. your past is my past.
(the threads of our lives are entwined. bygones are bygones, but it’s all a happy place now, a cozy home where we once lived in.)

i am not ashamed and neither should you be. i like who i am becoming, and you have a share in it. accept it.
(write to me. let’s talk.)

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on my notebook

02/10/2017

fleeting moments,
such
a fleeting thing.

i realize
you never left me
a single note
written by hand.

i don’t know
how your cursive looks,
i can’t even imagine
how it is displayed on paper.

not even on my birthday…
i didn’t get a card.
i got a smile
with watery eyes,
but not a little piece of paper i can cherish,
and keep in a box of beloved memories.

in fact
i think i have never
seen
you physically write anything.

and that’s sad
really freaking sad,
because words
are my thing,
are the memories i can keep,
are the scribbles
i’d like
to safeguard forever,
maybe even tattoo on my skin.

math

13/09/2017

our love lasted
for two hundred
and forty five
text messages,
fifty-four
traded pictures,
endless pining
on dark nights
and thirty-nine
undercover kisses.

long distance

28/08/2017

you just keep saying
“as soon as I’m back,
I’ll come and see you”,
but what’s the good
in visiting
if you are never staying?

how long must a lover
make a bed
if no one’s ever laying in it?

how long must a lover
live alone;
always a one,
never a two?

tell me: how is it good
to live a fairy tale
of messages on your timeline,
and never – ever –
hold you in my arms
nor call you mine?

knuckles

25/08/2017

after a long period
of tranquil nights
i dreamed of you again.

i dreamed i kissed
the column of your neck,
and later,
your supple lips.

i didn’t wake up startled,
nor shaking;
not even angry.

i just rose from the bed
and started the coffee maker.
then i got dressed,
got on the bus to work etc.

however, throughout
the day
i couldn’t shake off
one single thing:
a phantom feeling
of your hand
holding mine.

(did you dream of me?
did you feel it too?)

weight in gold

24/08/2017

i am sorry if it seems
like i never listen
or start conversations,
or if you feel my gifts
are consolations
for my absence.

i am bad at saying
what I mean;
baring my soul
and revealing my words
was never really my thing.

it’s all family heritage,
as are the rings
that adorn your fingers.
(as are the silent gestures
that you can’t seem to hear.)

i’ll cover your collarbones
in necklaces though,
as if you are goddess –
i’ll stud them with stones
for every word i keep in,
i promise.

i am sorry if i am a show-er
not a say-er.

you want love notes
and adoring quotes,
but i’ll give you platinum
until you look like an actress.

sorry
for i can’t help it
if i like how the silver
shines against your skin:

the image is akin
to the sliver
of light that enters our bedroom

when the night is quiet
and the air feels right,
in the rite of silence
that blesses our affair.

triangulation of desire

11/07/2017

he had kind eyes,
a warm and kind sense
of justice
and a charming smile
that could get him out
of any trouble.

that was almost nothing
but just enough
to fine-tune
my appetite.

mermaid

03/07/2017

on nasty days,
I always thought of myself
as some scary
deep-sea creature
full of angry, sharp teeth.

when calmer,
i pictured myself, maybe, as
a rock from the bottom
of the oceans:
hard and mossy,
unlikeable, untouchable,
something
so cold no one
would ever wanna take home.

and no one could change
this image of myself,
no matter how many friends,
or how many hugs
I would get,
how many messages
or love gestures.

no mirror could display
any but hideous things.

I could only see
me
ten-thousand feet
below,
into the cold water.

I was always
alone in my thoughts.

***

and then,
in a rare moment
I surfaced,
up up up, until I was
close to the land.

up there,
you came along:
a flurry little creature,
swimming about.

you circled me once, and then again,
twirling the waters,
dancing
in a flow
full of power.

as you cut
the waters,
the scales on your tail sparkled.
when I touched them,
they were as hard and as colorful
as a thousand gems
under my fingertips.

I caressed you
over and over,
and as you laid your head on my shoulder,
your coal-black hair floated
and shone almost white
under the milky moonlight.

the refraction
under the water
made it all look
like fractals.

so pretty
were your pearly white teeth
when you smiled.

***

and you visited,
many times.
we danced,
and talked until the wee hours,
stopping only when the fishermen came along.
we were
as happy as we could
for that moment.

we played cards
on sunken ships,
and you’d always let me win.

“you clearly wanted the victory,
so I don’t see the point in winning
like this.”

on these moments,
I didn’t see myself
as distorted
anymore;
as you touched me,
as we kissed,
I felt things that I hadn’t in very, very long.

but the surface
was bright
and loud! too loud!
and I wanted silence.

yet the seafloor was too dark,
and too quiet for you,
the water murky,
the ambiance too chilly:
you wanted the moon
and the stars,
and the shells in the sand.

you wanted the world
above,
and try to, one day,
take the land.

***

so, I gave you what I could:
my name and a promise
that I’d answer
every time you called.

and a goodbye,
so you could go.

I gave you the victory
you yearned for:

there was no longer
a point in winning
if you could not have
the light that you needed.

the part of the story no one wants to hear

16/05/2017

is that, in the end,
you’re not really better
than him.

that she indeed could find
someone finer than you.

that you are not the greatest,
not irreplaceable.

not someone
special, one of a kind,
as you thought yourself
to be.

all in all,
you are just a person,
– neither good nor bad –
just one
that wasn’t right
for someone else.

(and that yes, she got over you
and, surely, found
somebody just as good,
if not worthier)

***

however,
the good part
that I personally think you should hear
is
that you’re no one’s second choice,
no one’s leftovers,

and that you do have value,
maybe not for this one person,
nor that other,
but you’ll be a good fit
(someday!)
for somebody new.

senses #1 – smell

11/04/2017

i remember you
distinctively by your smell:
skin
and your earthly sweat,
the tangy cleanness
of generic white soap
on your neck
and clove cigarette smoke
mixed with aftershave
below your mouth.