Tag: love

Love Is Overrated: A Quiet Rant

Love is watching your friend tremble as she whispers
the strength he has in his fists,
love is wiping her tears away, it is knowing she will stay.

Love is seeing her beat herself down for
caring just a percentage too much to leave,
it is the extra observations you make of him
after knowing the other side.

Love is wondering why despite the millions of
fish out there, I am still starving to death.
Love is the crippling defeat embodied in the waves
that keep me company.

I can’t recall when I realised fairytales do not exist, but I do know
love is the realisation that one does not need fish to live,
yet still treading the well-worn path down the next day.

Space

I did not realise how small I was until
I laid in a double bed.
The distance between my four limbs spanning
constellations yet I am still travelling,
trying to discover the end of time,
to say I am all that I am.

I told myself to stop writing love poems,
but dear god,
every time my pen sets to paper,
it’s all about eyes, and metaphors, quiet whispers
and how goddamn lonely this bed is.

And I’m thinking maybe someone somewhere
is trying to tell me something,
but the end of time is rather peaceful, and
there are black holes and meteors for the
spaces that I cannot reach.

On The Losing Side

Afterwards, I took down the curtains,
I heard vitamin D helps to
chase away the sadness but all I see
is my lone shadow swaying in a room too big.

Afterwards, I picked up a single bed off a stranger on gumtree,
another bed with someone else’s memories
because mine became intolerable.
He asked me why with all the kindness
a stranger can give, and
I responded with ‘renovation’ but he
does not understand.

Afterwards, with all the tears shed and all the removal gone,
I thought I’d get better but I just lost myself.

Lifeline

My mother has the softest hands,
I can still remember her gentle caresses
before hard labour carved its marks
on her fingertips, like a sharp reminder
of her existence, my existence,
our palms meeting to carry the flowing lifeline.

Your fists dwarf mine in comparison,
the length of your hands wrap around mine
to draw me home, entwining around my
lifeline more and more each day.

I am so young, I have the soft palms
and strong grasps of a toddler who is
still afraid of the hard tarmac beneath.
Your hands feel like safety but also
infinite darkness, and my mother is the
beacon lighting my way.

Trespass

You ruined me.
You took my first kiss without permission,
even worse, you dared to trespass
and steal my first love, my first heartbreak
from right under my nose,
the cheek of it.
I didn’t recognise what was so wrong
until I saw you hurrying into the sunset
when moments ago, I had you in my arms
whispering quiet nothings.

I can almost hear the click of fingers
changing the tracks of my life,
rearranging the network and diverting
my carefully planned journey,
like the snap of a branch from a tree;
you left me trying to collect the leaves
that fell, the leaves that covered me
like your hands did before our last kiss.

A soft peck as the sacrilege of my vows,
until death do us part or
until life do us part.

 

In Motion

The problem with breaking up on a train
is the constant motion that
you swear you can still feel
when you lie awake and reminisce

The motion that shakes you from
side to side as you try to gather
some order into your thoughts,
but the peak time train has no room
for logic, only the desire to squeeze in
one more person, one more kiss,
one more lingering moment between two lovers

I tried to stay away from reminders
yet the truth is god only knows
which train holds our tears and
which carriage broke your heart

So maybe the next time I unknowingly
stand where I stood, I won’t
be reminded of your pain and it will not hurt