The best of us don’t lie,
the best of us don’t ever need to hide;
there is nothing sinful,
nothing wrong in their lives.
I envy people who don’t have to close the door —
I envy people who shall never find the taste of tears.
I envy all the best of us who shall not ever be at fault;
they never knew the shame,
they never had to beg for anyone’s forgiveness.
I am broken at a thousand different places,
I am cursed for things I failed at
and hated for the ones I have done;
I am painted with the bruises from my fingernails,
and stitches from every time I was deliberately crushed. …
In the middle of the night
a fleeting thought has told me:
— You are not enough,
you will never have
the freedom to do just that
which has forever been your dream.
You are not enough
to be the love to whom you wish you were
if only one step closer.
You are not enough, —
the thought has whispered.
It woke me up,
from a peaceful mesmerizing dream.
In the middle of the night
the sky was still a bottomless and pitch-black hole —
the stars were scarce, the moon went hiding.
I was alone; the only shadow on the wall
was just the thought of having failed those
whose cheers mattered more than both, my very own heart and soul. …
As if there is someone in the room,
I hold my breath
and bite into my lip,
“I shall not cry” —
the voice inside my head has preached —
how am I supposed to feel?
If feelings of rejection,
of deep, profound grief
are not among the answers
I am allowed to give.
I don’t want anyone upset or hurt —
I don’t want anyone to comfort me,
and point to the others
who have had it worse;
but if I want to feel a little lonely,
a little lost,
should I be choking down my tears
simply to pretend I don’t? …
I did not think of you until…
I left the city where we met.
I have forgotten where you live
until I found myself so far away.
I did not care if you’d call
until I lost your number.
I did not think of you and then…
You were eventually the one I could not live without.
I did not think I’d ever miss
the one who broke my heart.
I did not think, I did not question —
the further I’d go, the less I’d have to cry. …
I can hear people talk
out of my window
there is life —
behind closed shutters of my bedroom
there is nothing.
It’s only me,
a computer screen,
a pile of the photos —
I wish I had the strength to burn them down.
Because the second I look back at what had been —
what could be, what I strive to be
pales in comparison to how I used to feel.
I can no longer watch them
unveil behind my eyes;
they ache inside —
deep in my chest,
between two lungs.
I wish I smoked,
I wish the nicotine could numb the pain. …
Blue — the color of the eyes.
Your voice — is how I hear the lies.
That’s right — you are gone, and all I hear from now on,
“I never will and never want to let you go.”
A tragic sign. A lonely tear down my cheek.
I guess it’s only fair you are now a shadow in my dreams,
a memory of a thousand kisses in the dark,
a memory I wish I could erase only to let it come alive.
“I hate you!”
Do you wish to know how many times I screamed?
How many ways to hurt you I have dreamed?
You still can see the scars wide open on my wrists —
this IS how much I hated you; I wanted you to feel the guilt. …