Childhood friends bring you back to a space of suspended time when you didn’t know much about the world. These sepia-toned memories seem to take on a sort of deliberate slowness, dusted off from their shelves where they remain daintily until forever forgotten. They remind you of who you once were, and bring you to pages in your story you rarely visit. You take a step back, and access how life has been then, and how it is now, and you are humbled by the things you have experienced and how they have shaped you into who you are today.
I really enjoyed talking with you today. I saw a flicker, then a spark and an ignition of what used to be someone so dear to me, and even though we have not talked like this in years, it feels like maybe, we could start talking again. And even if we don’t, I am glad you are well, and that you are in a relatively good place now. You’ll always be something special to me.
valēns m, f, n (genitive valentis); third declension
1. strong, vigorous, healthy
i am not a writer of poetry;
i am a passage between thoughts and things.
you would be proud, i like to believe,
if you saw the way i insisted on a reprieve.
it is such moments that bring light to me
and i know the right choice would be: to simply let it be.
so i tend to the gardens of my soul,
and sow the right seeds,
when the right person comes along i will know,
because i will be confident in what my heart needs,
and i won’t
i won’t get it wrong this time.
you wouldn’t be impressed,
hell no, maybe even depressed,
but a little autonomy
and some good mindless fun,
never did any harm to anyone
although, sure to say,
it’s all fun and games as long as everyone’s gay
and after all,
this could be a test.
your choices mean nothing unless they are your best.
the boundaries I set,
to safeguard against all regret
although I’ve never regretted anything to this day
and after all it’s all digital anyway.
and words are just words,
26 alphabets strung together to give meaning.
I am learning.
the past does not bind me.
neither does the future.
what keeps me tethered is the present moment,
right now, right here.
The smell after rain
The blood in my veins.
The stillness amidst the storm
In volumes unspoken.
You have stumbled across the forests for a while now,
Knees battered and bruised
There are things you know
That you wish you had known sooner,
But you take solace in that you have broken free
You will not free-fall
Instead, you will fly.
You will not allow yourself to break this time.
“Oh, my dear,” He smiled, gently placing his hands onto the small of her back, “These lights don’t shine quite as bright as you.”
She laughed, the joyous ring he captured carefully in his heart as he looked at her. She is so beautiful. And as her gaze met his, he knew. This was it. This was the person he knew he could spend his whole life with, her laughter a melody he wanted to hear over and over and over.
You are an algorithm of associations.
Mahogany skies, cherry pie.
Flashing white, sucker-punch.
The end of my tethers,
The end of your tethers.
Sharpness caressing the light of day,
Crashing into conjugations of lightning, thunder and
The gentle, persistent hum of empty space.
We grappled with the edge of night,
Stepwise sauntering into the moonlight,
Melodious, velvety, but also foreboding
What glitters is not always gold.
One day you won’t remember how it felt like.
You will struggle to place your memories
But you will find that they are muffled, hazy and fragmented.
You will not recall the vividness that once placed your sanity upon hinges;
You may not remember them, even though you have spent a relative eternity
Tossing and turning, plagued, refusing to let your mind or body sleep.
The body knows when it is time to let go.
When it tells you it is time to go, it will not be explicit in its meaning.
cast your soul upon the frigid winds of abandoned youth,
the way we move is befitting of a dead man’s lobotomy.
we fling ourselves desperately upon the glittering waters.
what glitters may not be gold,
but this minute possibility catches us by our throats.
you are a thousand suns, moons and galaxies reflecting back to me.
there is a world within which I do not grasp completely.
do I dare grasp it completely?
in pauses the world rings loud beneath my feet,
and in these pauses I shut off reverberations of sound
and hold you close to me.
for you are light; and you are darkness.
you are everything I’ve ever felt, cascading and crashing
and you are my light, and you are my darkness.
The world is bustling with noise.
The dark oil of the night sky contrasting city lights
Little people walking on little streets lined by little roads driven on by little cars
And these people all have their own stories to tell,
A multitude of memories condensed into all the tiny spaces we call home.
Recalled and created from 10 million reactions a second
They sneak in between alleyways and streets dotted with tequila bottles and piled-on-high crates,
Shimmer and sashay across brightly lit chandelier lights and sleek marble floors,
Slither between shoulders of shuffling crowds raving to the beat.
They glide their way across sheets cocooning couples in mad embrace
Blocks and blocks of cordorned off spaces of life
Alongside others sleeping soundly in the raven night.
Lozenges of glitter around empty eyes
The barbed wire fence screaming
Its way into vision
Haphazard roads entwining
A pathway of undoing
The rain hails droplets from a billion years ago onto my skin,
And I have only been here 18 years.
A temporary abode in a shell that will cease to exist when I leave.
It’s a strange feeling, being at peace with how I’d fade into nothingness one day.
The elements in me will return to the atmosphere,
And I will cease to be.
My name will grace upon someone’s lips for the last time
And that shall be my second death
I will be gone forever.
Light falls onto Earth several seconds late.
And I thought if doomsday came,
We wouldn’t know until it was too late.
At least we got to dance in the rain.