Intertwined Souls

Feb 2014

I feel a flow of tears running down on my skin

They are vain and tasteless for some reason

I know they do not belong to my eyes, for my eyes have seen lots — it is bitter

They belong to my weird sensation, thoughts and ideas about

who you are and what you mean to me — and that is vain

I don’t know you even though

We have stories since the beginning of time

I don’t know you

Because there stand brick walls between us.

By brick walls I mean,

The days that you were silent

And absent

The days that you were drunk in your failed expectations

That you brought back to “discuss” in a higher pitched voice

That stained my memory

I don’t know you

Because there stand a river between us.

The river running through like it’s been flooded

It’s days again. How fast it flows.

The days that kept us apart

On the opposite banks of a river

We watched

Watched each other grow/die silently and let it be heavy on our hearts

On occasional unconventional holidays of the people

We kissed each other on cheeks awkwardly and intentionally not let it melt the coldness

And went back to the place we always stand

Brick walls away.

A river away.

Resentment and bitterness

Formed the bridge instead of attention and sympathy

And the river is too damn wide

And things that are similar but not quite as

Care and leftover love from the golden days remained as ladders

But the walls are too damn high

Ideas, feelings and thoughts

Are worn out

Are desperate to find some kind of shape or form

They drill holes in my chest everyday

That pains me and that has actual symptoms on the outside

That’s not shown on the x-ray and doctors couldn’t find

Because it’s intangible holes in my chest

Can only be seen through words and melodies

Can only be felt


Perhaps the echoes of your warmth gets blocked by the past.


In the morning light I forgive you because you are imperfect

In the darkness I resent you because you are imperfect

But we are intertwined since the beginning of time

We are intertwined by the walls

The flood, light and the dark

And the days itself whether it’s pleasant or painful

Altogether it is our history, and history is never perfect

Because we are just intertwined souls

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