I slit my wrists open and the exposed vein bled out the horrors of my barely-there childhood. My chest echoes hollow from all the pain and crying. I am birthed to be nothing more than a dam of misery. I am birthed to be nothing more than a shrine of my mother’s lost youth.
I was born on a September night while storms brewed in the horizon. My mother bled like she never did before, her hips dipped in and out of pain. I was born from the ashes of her dreams. Her sorrows gave way to a life full of promise and yearning.
Her bed is where she will lay unfulfilled for decades to come. I am my mother’s savior — all her hopes made flesh. For a moment, as most women are wired to feel when spawning their young, all her failures seem so trivial as she looked into the eyes she carved from her flesh.
But I still catch her in daydreams. She traces the silhouette of her “maybes” and “if onlys” as if she could bring life to them just through wishing. She lives through me because it is the only way she knows how.
Her skin bleeds rose petals from the thorn crown she wears. Her floor scattered with relics from her adolescence. What hopes and dreams died with her that day she found out she is with child? What medicine does she take for her restless heart?
She said her life has been multiplied by four; that she is reborn one child at a time. Still, she gets lost her in daydreams. We are her surrenders. We are her hopes and dreams and “could-have-beens”. She comes to life sipping on our tantrums. She sinks her teeth into our tears.
But my mother is also the monster under my bed; the bottomless canyon I keep falling into. Her name conjures nightmares and I constantly slip into the void of her creation. My mother has carved me empty.
Written on my wrists are the words she repeats into my ears:
“You have surpassed all I am, all I ever will be. You will be my saving grace — all my dreams realized. You will pull me out of the gaping wound of my own mother’s doing. You cannot leave me behind. You will save me. Please, save me.”
The tides swell with excitement
as the moon rises to its throne,
as the stars take a dip in the ebony sky.
Behind the brashness of the wind,
behind the poise of the waves,
is a dribble of melancholy life
that savored the same,
that whimpered the same.
“Where does the sun go when it sets?
We all know sunsets can only last for so long.”
These questions beat on,
like martyrs in search of the wounded.
Never stopping until they taste
the bittersweetness of the truth.
It is here,
at the bottom of this glass.
It is here
that you’ll find the raw,
Here is the place
where broken hearts go.
Here is where the sun
goes to die.
I know now where the moon goes when it sets
in your eyes.
So majestic its gravity
that the tides in my blood fail to resist.
So I crash into the rocks at your feet
and yield to the dark pressure of your kiss.
This love will be the death of me,
but I will let it.
For I am nothing
if not the aftermath you leave
in your wake.
My sunset boy in a sea of sorrows,
do you know I worship the gods that reside in the hollow of your neck?
We were both born on hallowed ground,
my bed is our witness.
Hold me as I moan songs of pagans.
Kiss me as I sway to the ballad of your lies.
Your skin radiates carnal bliss
and I inhale every bit greedily.
Let’s hum the unsung melodies of this permanent fate.
We are too big for our skin,
too morose for the dripping sunshine.
We wear our anguish like brand new shirts,
words come too close for my liking,
careless promises taste of honey and leaving.
Bedroom eyes and measured steps,
my knees made liquid.
Let repetitions be staged,
I implore you.
I adore you so horribly.
The sirens came after my thundering heartbeats
screams of rescue pounding on the door
You with the syrup hair and bedroom eyes
Words, wine-sweet medley
I drink them all up
until the glass is half empty
I prayed to the fog
addressing a loan god
Summer insomnias amidst body heat
Scent like the heady aroma
that rises from the earth
Let’s make homes out of the echoing silence of this paved uncertainty
Ego, larger than life
yet cowering deep within
You are both a fear and a wish
the nightmare and the daydream
Loving intent hidden in confined spaces
of a black hole heart
I scurry away
Love is the specter that hides in the closet
the insidious shadow under the bed
How many times have I made a home
in the belly of this beast?
So I scurry away
You are both a fear and a wish
the nightingale’s song to the poison in these veins
So I sway
to the ballad of your singsong voice
to the twinkle in your eyes
There is no way out
there is only surrender
So why do I
refuse to answer the door
The moon shines bright as longing begins to afflict me again.
I turn on the light to take down the dream of you and me.
Can I resurrect the parts of me that died when you left?
My darling, how can I turn back time?
I loved you at my prime.
It seems that my heart has peaked.
My soul is still yours.
It’s still your warmth I seek.
My freckled lover, how do we start over?
Life has been unkind to the love still brewing inside.
How do I unlove you?
How does miles of skin unlearn your touch?
Today, there is no more you and I.
Tomorrow, I will keep living a lie.
When the soul has known darkness like art, silence swells up until it fills the lungs. All you will hear is the euphony of your teardrops and the crashing of your heart. Our folly is love, its fodder is touch. We are starving with mouths filled to the corners of our lips, yet the words will never reach the surface. Speak now, hold me now, I beg, lest we give in to the rapture of the deep.