‪Unrest.‬

My mind is a forsaken battlefield riddled with the aftermath of the war I wage against demons that linger in the fog. There is a minute’s reprieve in moments I stop and lick the blisters on the hands that allow me to hold on for life.

Funny how you would like to believe you have healed from everything that wounded you only to find in the middle of the night, in between the pauses and idle time, that the scars are still there — red, indented, throbbing.

There is no rest in dreams. The light dims as I succumb to the call of slumber. What nightmares await me under the heavy blanket of REM sleep?

The onus is on me. Damsels need not be in distress. It does not serve protagonists to linger in the excruciating realm of the known, but the road that ventures into the promise of uncertainty is lost in a haze of salty tears and unfounded hope. I no longer wish to live in the bog, but that is where the familiar thrives.

Where is the lie? Where is the truth? Who am I if I am not this?

Shot glasses.

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,

the wounded,

the sublime.

Here is the place

where broken hearts go.

Here is where the sun

goes to die.

Gravity.

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.

Sunset boy.

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.

A fear & a wish.

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

after rain

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

I dance

to the twinkle in your eyes

There is no way out

there is only surrender

So why do I

refuse to answer the door

and hide?

Still you.

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.

Look this way, my wicked.

On evenings when the warm effervescent glow of the moon gilded the ground,
your skin glitters,
your eyes dance with slivers of moonbeams and,
dare I say, fairy dust.
I am a shell filled with maybes and what ifs.
My skin screams protests that seek your quiet.
Your presence satiates this black hole of a heart —
each touch is a blanket of carnal promises so sweet,
I want to believe in the magic.
You were my everything once,
if everything meant kisses that burned into the soul.
You were the air that filled my lungs,
if air meant the hope of tomorrows and forevers.
I still yearn for you, my wicked.
Despite this tempestuous love affair,
I still rise from the wreckage you left in your wake
arms wide open, nose bloody.
Dearest fickle muse, heal me.
Touch me.
Move to the skips of my heartbeats.
Sway to the rhythm of my honesty.
This is what you came for, isn’t it?
This is the ever-after to your once-upon-a-time.
This.
This is it.
Just look my way.
Look my way once more.

Lessons Not Learned.

Your eyes

spoke a language

that had been dead long ago.

Maybe it was to warn me

that your love

was as ephemeral

as the words

that left your lips.

That the space

you occupied

equated to

the velvet blackness

of a brand of forever

that I will never know.

Yet,

I stayed

with reckless abandon –

long enough to discover

that my heart

broke easier

than the promises

you couldn’t keep.

Each time

I ignored the storm

in my gut,

heartbreak became the lover

I was left in bed with.

With every shattering sound,

my fuse got shorter.

Anger,

frustration,

confusion

built up within.

The rage flowed

from my veins

into my soul.

But each time

you reached for me,

there was release.

There was relief.

There was the hope

that you finally saw

how good we had it.

Now,

I struggle

to burn the bridge

you built with steady hands.

How did we get here?

How could you forget?

You riled me up,

just so you could

bring me down.

Was it all a game?

Was it all just for show?

Had I become the trophy

left behind

to collect dust

in one corner

of your wretched mind?

Dear lover,

you left me hanging.

But, darling,

I’m still yours.

Tell Me How.

I struggle with the idea of us –

Our could-have-beens and what-ifs.

Tell me the right words to say

That equate to how I make you feel

Each time I kiss your shoulder,

In the times I tuck away

Each strand of rebellious hair.

Tell me how to love you 

So you can finally forget 

How alone this world makes you feel;

How life has seemingly abandoned you.

Tell me how.

Tell me how.

I wear all white.

I wear all white
to make up for all the darkness I have inside –
the blacks and grays
that eat away my soul,
corrupt my good intentions.

I wear all white
to hide the truth,
throw my lover off
the scent of my unfulfilled heart.

I wear all white
to fool myself most of all,
believe that things
will get better from here.