If I were to imagine it
it’d be the helpless struggle of predestined fate
caught, dead centre
in the sticky threads of my cobweb
suspended, but not flying nor free
see, the silk-thread neurons weave the prey
like the next step in the sewing process-
the continuous
push and pull strung in the bed frame of memory,
ringing through and through,
a never ending symphony
calling, and testing
the humble plea, remember me?
water, falls
do you remember the day we swore
to someday visit niagara falls
now that dream seems so far away
water slipping through my fingers
i cannot grasp ahold of you
so i take a dip in the pool
imagine what it would be like
swimming under waterfalls with you
and in the moment the water is sweet
a blissful glaze
before my chlorine filled lungs choke on the pain
but even as i come up to take a breathe
i do not second guess diving in again
you see my heart was not build to resent the pain
and my lungs know only that i’m alive
my love is bursting at its seams
and i used to second guess the way i loved, all these red flags and warning signs: you will, get hurt
but wasn’t skinny dipping always about the exhilaration and the risk anyway?
sailor, homebound
breathe easy.
inhale, exhale, repeat.
i hear the careless drumming of your heart
blood clots forming knots within
valves like limbs tied, helpless and uneasy,
take a deep breath in.
hold your heart with delicate hands,
keep the perfect rhythm.
one, two, three.
cry the tears you need
to keep your ship afloat,
the wind and weather is beyond you
but the sails are yours –
rope burn in harsh seas,
waves a slap in greeting,
but your ship is sailing and headed
toward your treasure chest.
breathe easy sailor, you will not drown.
do you remember
I remember the smell of home, it is the smell of red lipstick in my grandmother’s drawer.
It is the smell of citrus and grass in the garden, promising the humidity of summer’s day.
I remember the sound of home, it is the morning call of a rooster at 5am, birds singing hymns at six.
It is chickens waiting to be fed and the quiet noise of breakfast.
I remember the taste of home, it is coffee with milk, sweetened over the stove.
It is pico de gallo, guacamole, quesadillas y mas queso.
I remember the sight of home. It is orange and blue, a house on each side, backyard and garden all the way around.
It is avocado trees and mangos in season, it is limes as big as lemons and lavadora at the back.
I remember the feel of home. It is warmth blooming in my chest knowing I am safe and loved, knowing comfort in the form of abrazos and besitos on my cheeks. It is having hands run themselves through my curls, it is being reminded that I am wanted.
I remember home like a best friend’s birthday.
But home no longer remembers me.
star crossed, we were not
I might have claimed us star-crossed lovers, if you weren’t the force working against us. If, there was an us. If, we loved. Instead, I was a starry eyed lover, beckoning my favourite night sky – mapping the stars and the constellations with my hands stretched out, narrowing the focus of my line of sight. I’ve always loved the sky, perhaps that is why I love you.
Love, present.
Then, I suppose star-struck I was by the way you showed me a world beyond the limits of the sky, the way you taught me the milky way, the way you introduced the idea of endless possibilities, of sincere limitless opportunity. To me you were a galaxy, the evolution of a universe I had never studied or understood, but one that I accepted without hesitation, the comfort of your presence I always wanted to live within.
It is not that I was unaware of the distance I’d have had to travel to be within your sphere. It is not that I refused to acknowledge the blisters that developed in my pursuit. Instead it is that I painted false hues of confidence on my skin, wishing they would harden and stand the blows and pain that I might inflict upon my fragile heart. I guess my plans fell through. I guess my precaution did not suffice. I say I guess because the paint has cracked, my confidence has seeped through the crevices of my pretence and I am no longer certain.
See, I offered my heart to your sky and your universe, but now I am taking it back. I am retracting the hand I once stretched out, I am witnessing the flaws unfold and play out.
I do not believe in deserving, and hence I hold no resentment for what we might have been. I do not blame you for not loving me the way I spend so many nights wishing you would. I do not blame you for not holding my hand and cradling my heart the way I did yours. Most of all I do not blame you for not wanting the same us as I did.
Instead I thank you for your time and your consideration. I say thank you because I know ever so often you kept me in mind, I say thank you because I know at times you really did try. Thank you for listening to my late night rambles, for bearing my thoughts even when they were in shambles. Thank you for entertaining my demands, for allowing my forehead kisses and occasionally lending me your arms. Thank you for allowing love to stop by, even if she knocked only at my door.
Dear star crossed lover, I hope to never remember you a nightmare, but instead think you a dream.
goodnight
endreeyah 