It has to be you

It has to be you. Ever since you came back, I can’t be if it’s not you. There was no touch, no held breath you have missed. Not once was my skin burning without your name on my tongue.

He wonders why our eyes never meet, the fool. But it’s never him, no. It has to be you.

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Because I can’t hold on to the illusion. When I almost believe, when I can almost touch your face, you vanish and leave me like a held breath. And never do I feel colder, lonelier; never do I long for darkness more than when I wish I could stop fooling myself..

I grow and I laugh at myself, and then shrink back into this girl, too small for my shoes. You grab my hands and spin me around and I let my head fall back, and laugh like a maniac, drunk with your madness. I keep waiting for the day you’ll let go, when I spin so fast, and I fall and hit my skull against a stone and split it apart. Perhaps you’ll leave it then, my twisted mind. Perhaps you’ll set me free.

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The unbearable hours

She was staring at her red, swollen finger, hot water running down the plate in her hands. She couldn’t move. Tears wanted to form but she wouldn’t let them. Crying was accepting; and she still hoped.

He saw the steam rising and run to the sink, pulled her burning hands away, bewildered.

‘What the fuck is wrong with you, J?’

She shook her head, evasive, and walked away. Stalled at the door, not knowing where to go, what to do with herself; the words in her head like a broken disk ‘I can’t bear it! I can’t bear it! I can’t bear it!

She squeezed her hands, welcoming the distraction of the throbbing pain. Why was the flesh so easy to endure?

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Yours

What is it all becoming, if not sorrow?

The nights wonder how his breath feels on the back of her head; ache for a touch, a gaze. The mornings cling desperately to a fading dream..

Perhaps amnesia is all you’ve left to wish for; forgetting his name, your own.. his maddening words. ‘One day’ he says, but you can’t bear it. Your whole body turns into a wound and you keep waiting for the skin to fall off so you could breathe again; but you know his absence shrinks around your neck every time your heart beats amiss.

Let me be! you beg. Let me be yours..

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S. is for Stranger…

A post from the past, translated – January 2013

We talked everyday; conventionally. Frozen looks hiding insurmountable chemistry. I could never convince my body to get up from the chair and go home. The clock stopped when our eyes met; and if we were close, it never mattered what we said, if we said anything…

But then we met, like I’d never dared to dream; him and I, alone and unashamed. He smiled, the look in his eyes turning page after page of me, re-writing history. And I knew then I’d always carry his smile, curious and sweet, sealed in my heart.

I couldn’t breathe when I got home. I couldn’t breathe for days after; I would still feel his fingers on my back and my skin ached. My ears ringed, exhaustingly replaying the whispers.

My hands still shake when I type in my email, terrified of his silence. The clock doesn’t stop anymore and I wonder how long I have left until doom.

How I wish I could be yours. The way I was no one’s before…

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Dancing

I dreamed of a dance; unknown, unsettling. It was dark and neither of us knew the steps, though our bodies spun deliriously.

The rhythm was new and it was ancient; it was our own and it belonged to the gods.

When the music stopped my head rested on your chest, my body re-building itself to the new rhythm. My limbs fell and grew back, my blood changed direction.

I was liberated, I was yours..


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