A lot of people I have met are fearful of returning to the same state they escaped from. I see wounded souls and battle scars, hidden beneath laughs and cigarette smoke. “We’ve made it this far.”, they say, and clink their glass to the muse of unawareness and celebrate their strength. Runners, is what they are. They won’t tell you how far they have come but would rather claim to be grounded and still. Rubber spines and crooked bones. Mascara stained and rogue lipstick. All covered in shades of charcoal black. I’ve seen them escape into an alternate reality and that is why I get scared when I see that they wear the same charcoal shade underneath their skin that I do.
This is not a poem
Maybe an eulogy ? Or an ode
To my dead self or resurrection
I will see what is the case
After this rhyme is complete
I need to forgive myself
Before God or the Devil
Self-forgiveness is important
Forgive the ghosts of the past
To my mother
I’m sorry your marriage did not worked out
But a strong woman married to a weak man
That “high school love” is doomed from the start
Your discipline techniques really didn’t do much
They turned your child into a manipulative cunt, well that is a plus
To my father
You’re the only man in my life that I love
But even in my love there is no forgiveness
You shouldn’t have put a hand on her
Not one but multiple times
Shouldn’t have hit your wife in front of your 9 year old child
Please, be a man and stop this mental abuse on others
To the boy who I had a crush on in 5th grade
I never talked to you
But you gave me that vibe
Of badass senior biker boys
I liked that in you
To be honest, the charm of thrill still drives me insane
They call me adrenaline junkie, for a reason
To the girl who made fun of me in 8th grade
I never bothered you
We barely spoke
But you were pretty and smart
While, I hid under books and art
It wasn’t fair that you made fun of my stutter
Just so you could prove how “cool and funny” you were
To the English teacher back in 9th grade
I still remember how you slapped me on the face
When you didn’t like my essay
Maybe, you were frustrated how I didn’t participate
I swore to be a writer that day
Who would paint murals with her words
I’m glad to say, I really didn’t turn out that bad after all
To the boy back in 10th grade
It wasn’t nice to make a fool of me
I was young and naive
Lying to your first love isn’t that sweet
To the boy I claimed to love in highschool
Two years is a long time
We were both at fault
I loved every moment with you
Stolen kisses, midnight sneaks and even when you tried hitting me
I’m sorry that I had to leave
But I was learning how to love myself because they never really taught me how to
I hate chocolates, now
Just so you know
The night when you couldn’t protect me from those men
Took out all the sweet from my soul
To my sisters and my brother
God, I love you guys
I may not talk as much
Or be the type of elder sibling you want me to be
But trust me I try
And if someone even lays a finger on you
I promise it will be their last time
To my bestfriend
I’m sorry that I am so shitty at keeping contact
You look nice with your new friends
And I love how patient you are with my depressive self
I wish you the best in life
Trust me I do
It just gets on my nerves
When I look for friends and have none
I need to go out more
You’re right, I will
Not today, however
Maybe, when I’m not so down, someday
To the musician I was in love with
You really did a number on me
Who knew you could fuck me up so bad
Not even lay a hand on me and still leave a bloody trail
I’ll meet you in this lifetime, I promise you this, if I don’t die
And would dance to you singing “Hey Jude”
Because your voice still haunts me at times
To the writer who claimed to love me
Well, for you there is a lack of empathy
And in general all sorts of sympathy
All those love notes
Were word spun lies
Fuck you for lying
You should have just been honest
To my soul sisters
I love you
Our souls resonate to the same frequency
I take this bond stronger than blood
To my best man
If anyone tries to harm you in life
I swear to God
I will rip their bodies apart and set them on fire
The way I love you, cant be put into words
I’m sorry that my love is violent and not tender
You helped me in ways you don’t know
And for that I owe you my blood
To the boy I’m with
Please, be kind
I really can’t take more hurt or sorrow
I confuse love with affection
But I’ll learn, I swear
And if this does not work out
Remember that you really made me smile
To the ghost of my past lovers
To the people who aren’t in this poem
Don’t think I have forgotten
I forgive you for sculpting a fucked up character in me
But won’t forget the events
That made me who I am
And how I will turn out to be
So this is a rhyme
To 20 years of life
May I not slit my throat
Or chug pills with alcohol
And end up writing about a 20 more
Hoping that it turns out brighter and better
Than this series of fucked up events
About people who broke me intentionally and unintentionally
And who loved me conditionally and unconditionally
I never thought I would meet someone like you. Someone who will teach me to love again. Honest to God, I wasn’t much of a believer in miracles. I didn’t believe someone could revive the love in my soul like you did.
You did. I spent hours and days learning you. You were a new book, I had to read but the truth was even when I was done with you, I started to memorize you.
Learn each and everything that you are. I wanted you to be stored in the density of my brain forever.
I claimed you mine like a selfish bitch I was, I claimed you mine from the heavens above.
It was gradual and not sudden. It was us.
I forgot that everything that gets made also breaks.
Law of nature.
Now, I lay here with a few chivas in my system and smoke in the air trying to let you go
trying to unlearn you by learning that you were never mine to begin with, were you?
We’re all high and drunk
And even on memories
Drunk on the things that make us pass the days
Dire need of other people to not be alone among our thoughts
They can be lethal
They can be mortifying
Do you remember the last time you were proud of yourself for just being, you?
Hopes and dreams keep us moving
We all hate sober reality
Those who learn to deal with it are
The real winners
The real champions
You need a drunken state
For your sober thoughts
You need a broken heart
For your meaningful words
You need all that you cannot have
To dispose all that you do
You’re drunk and high on the idea that
Some people can save your soul
Some things can make you happy
While the reality is
The ones who you think can save you
Only end up killing you
It is not like you have much choice when you miss them.
Those little gestures that made you feel special than ever. The universe seemed complete when they clutched your hand in a busy street so you know they would never leave you. Among the crowd you will always have them.
The way they put roses in your hair and jasmine in your wrist, they will wilt like all things do,but the essence will live on.
Sharing coffee on the terrace at 5 p.m while the sun gently sets taking away all the worries of the day with it.
Exchange of glances at a party.
Morning kisses infused in your bloodstream like heroin in your veins.
They engulf you, break down the walls you built up high to protect yourself and become the poison with no antidote.
You find yourself wishing on that tiny star, hoping and praying.
God I wish this to last forever and if it is a dream then never let me wake up.
People change and time changes.
You are made to suffer more than your poor bones can handle and suffer a pain that sets your veins blazing.
No pain killer can cure this ache, no morphine can numb it down.
Like it built up, it falls apart and slips away.
Within minutes, you find yourself on your knees trying to make sense of the broken pieces.
You try to fix something that is broken beyond repair and in the process those shards dig in deeper.
Bruise you and make you bleed.
It is then a struggle to fix yourself from there on onwards.
Put the pieces together and be yourself, again
Learn with time to live the way it is and put on a facade
Until, night creeps up and you miss them
It is not much of a choice when you miss them when the clock strikes five, now do you?
This is what I became.
A dedication to someone dead.
An ode to all the addictions.
A poem to the heartbroken.
A story to the suicidal.
A piece of prose to the depressed.
A rhyme to those who loved.
A quote to the distressed.
I became immortal in the heart of many mortals.
I became the poison.
I became the cure.
I painted my soul and whispered to the heaven above
This is how I will cherish
This is how I will perish.
This is what I became.
Lately, I see myself exploring foreign bodies and trying to find you in them.
I have been searching your coarse palms and wounded knuckles among these soft handed lads.
I have been searching for the smell of your cologne and cigarette smoke in them.
I have been seeking the glitter that shone in your eyes when we laughed, but their don’t shine at all. Not as bright as yours.
I have been observing if they listen, God they try so hard but cannot listen to the unspoken words of mine. They don’t understand that I talk but my meaning is always different. They don’t understand that I bite my nails not because of habit but because I’m anxious.
I have been trying to hide the broken pieces of me and they can’t seem to find it like you always did. They don’t understand that I curl my toes when I am happy and I find random hugs the best.
I have been tracing my outline in them but they don’t fit in perfectly like you did.
Lately, I have been trying to forget you by finding you in others but I guess they don’t know how to grant wings to those who love to fall, like you do.
I know it is you knocking on the doors whenever thunder comes. You know I will take you in like the last time I did. I will stand tall against the storm and provide you the shelter you need.
I know it is you screaming from beneath the sheets of illusion you wear. You want to shun out reality and seek solace in me because you know that I can stand the harsh realities of time and protect your dreams.
I know it is you running towards me when your infatuations go away. You end up with your broken heart on my doorstep, asking me to fix it. I do, because you know I have endured the pain of being broken to the core.
I know it is you sneaking up on me. Tip toeing in my life every now and then, asking for me to make you whole so you can only leave again. Walking down the purple avenue with your head up high and that childish grin.
Trust me love, I know it is you. I always have.