I still have the tight feeling in my chest whenever your name comes up in conversation.
It’s been all these years and yet the thought of you still makes my heart thud louder and faster than it should.
I could never move on from you, much like the apostles in the Bible from the accusation of hiding Jesus’ body,
You are my bane, my persecution.
See, every time I try to say hello to a new person, the lump in my throat drags itself with me
Like knitted wool, like parallel lines.
I have tried to love again, but the stitches holding the cuts in my heart are still present.
The wounds have not healed yet, and may never will.
So how could I let myself love recklessly still?
And I have waited and waited, but the storm may never weather, the grief may never leave me alone.
I’m doomed, to keep going back and forth, always ending up with the same meaning.
Like a poorly written love story, like palindromes.
Dark and Heaven
You laugh with a snort,
Like you’ve been holding it in your whole life, finally finding an opportunity to let it out.
It sounds like the engine of a Peugeot that hasn’t been revved in the past year.
It’s loud yet inaudible, crazy, but beautiful.
A lot like you, and I hope like me too:
Imperfect and rough around the edges, yet pleasant and addictive.
Encased by coarse bark, housing the most amazing sap,
Like pineapple skin, like angel wings.
It has been a while since I mustered the words or act to make you cheer in laughter and see your lips askew.
These days, time moves in a vacuum, and I can never really say for sure when is what.
My memory is hazy, and my thoughts often get lost,
But everything becomes lucid when I think of you.
Bundle
It’s the infinite continuance of what magic looks like.
The resemblance between perfection and mortal.
The realization of an infinitely complex beauty stuck in the mind of a creator.
It’s the abundance of fresh air exposed by an astounding smile.
The carriage of terror by a petite portion of the firmament.
The ornament of a deftly worked art thrown down for the perusal of humans.
It’s you – the completion of a picture painted by Da Vinci’s air brush.
The continuance of a galaxy’s yearn for illumination.
A star, not constrained by the poverty of humanity’s imagination.
You are beautiful, even in ways that cannot be seen, and are yet to be experienced.
You, graced with the ability to move to fourth base with just a touch of hands, letting me peep into the eternity of your magnificent mind.
You, ineffable even to a dictionary compiled by the gods.
Perfect, not despite, but because of.
Even through all the tears and hurt.
You.
Moonlit Conversations
I spoke to the moon today
I told her how much I’ve been hurt and unable to do anything but cry
How each breath feels like sharred glad is being pierced deeper into my chest
I told her the last time I was genuinely happy was before I lost you
She told me that the beauty of every good thing is that it ends
And as much as it would kill me, it was time to let go
But I don’t want to do that, I don’t know how to
Love is blind, but this moon will forever look beautiful to me.
Para Decir Adiós
Hopelessness is as exhilarating as it is thrilling.
As much as it makes the future look bleak, it lets you experience the present for what it is.
Hopelessness is sad and stressful, but it is also freeing.
Not thinking about the potential positives allows you to focus on what really matters
– nothing.
I’ve lost hope in a lot of things recently, including myself.
I’ve lost all hope in life itself.
Nothing has meaning if it isn’t with you.
Nothing makes sense, not even you.
Marshed Memories
I can never forget the colour of your soul
The way your eyes light up when I call you baby
Or how you love having your back rubbed and your toes tickled even though you’re so scared of laughing out loud
Everyday, I think about how much hurt all of this caused me
But I cannot bring myself to forget you
Cos when a memory is etched into your heart, only dying can take it away
And I’ve tried and tried, but death just won’t come
This heart might have been shattered into several little pieces
But each piece is alive and beating for you
You make my sky dark, the colour of the clouds before it rains
And though I can smell the pertichor from a mile away
You’re the only one I want to dance in the rains with
I love you, even now that I remember how much hurt I feel.
I love you, even now it’s drizzling on my bed.
Ally
The engine stopped running
Burnt out from overuse
It’s what happens when you finally get a breath of fresh air after so long
You breathe it all in and forget to breathe out
The engine stopped running
You’re still the most beautiful thing ever created
Still the colorful palette with which to paint my art
Just because a car won’t start doesn’t mean you can’t sit in it
The engine stopped running
But you’ll never stop being God’s favorite piece
This engine might never start again
But I’ll always love you.
Prist
You’re like the thought process behind a speech made by a motivational speaker
Like the calls of a mother to her crawling child trying to take his first step
Like a man taking in a breath after being resuscitated from a cardiac arrest,
You are inspiring;
A lot like Mary saw when she looked up to her son nailed on a cross
Like a weight lifter seeing the results to his months of working out
You’re tearfully beautiful, rugged and uncut.
But thrilling and mind blowing
Beautiful, like an imperfect unmined gem
Like a parent seeing his child say their first words
Complete and whole, like Jesus after the resurrection.
Like God’s favorite piece.
Bunds
Time has slowed down, everything feels surreal
Nothing makes sense, reality looks blurry
There's a heaviness in my chest and a lump in my throat
I want to lay in bed and be covered by an invisibility cloak
I've been unable to sleep, my thoughts are unclear
My world is turned upside down, I don't know what to do
And the only person I want to talk to is gone
Ironic, that the first time I'm writing about you is after losing you.
Bleets
Cursed by the angst of a jealous Cupid; damned by his fetish
People like me can’t fall in love.
Instead, we stumble, plummeting deep into the abyss of emotional rollercoaster.
And this has been my favourite ride yet.
This – you, us – is the one thing I don’t feel the need to fix.
Because how do you fix perfection?
In statistics, qualitative data are data that do not have numerical value.
But I’ve managed to put a number on you – 100 – the number of years I hope we spend together.
I love you so much, I’ve lost my urge to write; to piece words together and convince myself I have the penmanship of Robert Ludlum.
I love you so much the only thing I want to do is to rehearse jokes. Go over them in my head. Make sure the delivery is perfect.
So much, the only thing I want to do is watch you laugh till tears fill your eyes. You see, your laughter is perfect, just like you.
Seeing you get breathless from laughing the other day is still my favourite memory etched into my mind.
I often play it back like a loop and plot ways on how to recreate it.
There’s nothing in the world more beautiful.
I’ve never been more at peace with being a clown.
This has been my favourite ride yet.
And this time, I hope the engine never stops running.
Cursed Delusions
I watched the clouds cover the moon
And the rays from the light scattered across the night’s skyline
Sometimes, the silver lining is only present when the darkness is thickest
Same way my mind is the most depressed when my belly is its giddiest
It’s the biggest paradox – my life
How much having emotions gets me sad
So it’s an irony the way I keep chasing love
Even though I want nothing to do with this delirious disease
Handcuffs can be made to be pretty as well
A jail decorated to look like heaven
But out, watching the sparkle of a shooting star through the night’s sky
I realized just because it’s colourful doesn’t mean it’s real.
God’s Favourite Piece
What does it feel like to fall in love with a poet?
It’s confusing, it’s being unsure of what is actually real and what is mere poetry
It’s being told about how your lips feel like God’s airbrush as he paints his favourite image – which is you by the way
It’s waking up to poems about how the contour of your body when you sleep is like the lines on the face of the moon
What does it feel like to fall in love with a poet?
It’s doubting every word they say, “maybe this too is a lie”
When they swear that the first day they locked eyes with you, their belly ruffled, not from a runny stomach, but from the number of butterflies that filled it up in an instant
How time stood still, but their heart couldn’t stop thumping with all the vigor and speed it could muster
Falling in love with a poet is beautiful, it’s ethereal
It’s letting the pheromones wash your brain and leave your mouth gaping for lack of words
I know this for a fact because that’s exactly how I feel everytime I look at you
Only, you’re not a poet, you’re the poem, God’s favourite piece.
What does it feel like to fall in love with a poet?
Ideation, Grief and Beauty
How do you do it – do this?
Be so perfect at living, at being, at being alive?
I see you smile on days your eyes tell different tales
When your skin swears and cusses and screams its tiredness?
How do you do this? Be this amazing?
At what point in your creation were you made this beautiful?
And not just what your face looks like, but what your heart feels like
Like the last drop of Caprisun, like angel petals
I saw you the other day in your element
Watching a video on your phone when you had just heard the worst news
Laughing like it was your last chance to ever be happy
Gleaming like a candle lit in hades
I saw you, with such splendor and calm
Without a care in the world, without any bother at all
And I prayed a little that you never lose that – your soul
Because in that moment, even now, you’re the most beautiful thing God ever created
How do you do that?
My First Bal
Losing belly fat is one of the most difficult things to do.
I know that’s a weird way to start up a note for you
But nothing about our relationship has ever been normal.
Nothing about either of us is.
You are the highlight to my full glam
– I sometimes could go out without you, but I never really am complete then.
It’s like the synonym of love – this feeling I have for you.
I know it’s not love because it’s something much deeper.
You are like a secret between God, the devil and the dead
I could never figure you out
But I could never stop being fascinated by your splendor
And all that you are – or are meant to be.
I am belly fat, you are belly.
And losing belly fat is one of the most difficult things in life.
So maybe we should just enjoy the ride.
It isn’t so bad afterall.
MMXX
An ode to a heartbreak, one you should have seen coming
Yet you got blinded by the fables of hope, of belief, of loving
They say love is how much you’re willing to give up for a person, in sickness and health.
And you gave up, a lot, including yourself.
It’s an ode to a heartbreak, a pretty much foreseen one
That left you in the trenches of depression, with no more strength to mourn
You’ve always been one with tough skin, ready to bear the worst
But the heart muscle was not built to stretch, unless it is sick – just like yours
This is an ode to a heartbreak, your heartbreak
And if no one mentioned, you came out of it beautiful in your stride
Cheers to your strength, may we never have to be that strong again
This is an ode to you, you survived.
Mehgram 