Just call it what you want.
Eyes closed. I summon her images her face her dimples her body her stretch marks her touch
her touching my innocence
With nowhere to go With no one to love I live with imaginary paintings among imaginary feelings I live in imaginary spaces among imaginary faces Did you call to find out if I was in my right mind or not?
Did you knock? On a door locked
Did you throw away the letters?
from left to right, which read - I am not ready
from right to left I read - ready not Am I?
Crossing paths with strangers Avoiding their glances Always looking at their shoes Never at their faces, little Miss scaredy-cat is actually afraid Never missed a thing—thought she’d die defeated If she passed you by.
That must have been the universe finally breathing out after holding its breath for six months So that you know: The clocks are ticking again, and the snow is already melting still cold happy wrinkles buried in my babushka scarf Your feet are wet. There was a joke somewhere, but not now! Now I look nice, don’t I?
That wasn’t my voice calling your name; it must have been my guardian angel.
Long goodbyes in the hallways. Someone to pick you up at the airport/train station. A best friend you can fuck without a condom. Ferritin – 307ng/ml. Watching a movie without checking your phone. The discipline of reading every day for an hour. Someone to make you coffee without asking. Lying in `savasana without twitching your left leg. A long oversized coat which feels like a hug, preferably black. I should have said something before getting into that cab. He cries when I cry, yk. Anything would have sufficed. Anyway, a nice box to solve my Christmas ornaments storage crisis. Someone to call you a witch, no, not someone, him. To write without believing you suck. To be ok with the fact that you might suck. To do it nevertheless. Someone so patient and so so kind that it’d make the absence almost ok. Someone who comes back.
To cook for two and set the table for two; they do the dishes. To eat freshly picked walnuts from your Grandma’s tree, it’s late May, and your hands are all black from the iodine. A rainy weekend and nowhere to be. Unread books on the floor. To keep at least one plant alive for a whole year. A child to trust you with their secrets.
Wearing a dress with deep pockets, deep pockets in general. Drinking tea in the kitchen with your best friend. A best friend. Weeping on the bathroom floor because they are gone. Being so comfortable around them that you start speaking in your native language without realizing it. Someone to fantasize about when you touch yourself. Loving, hating, and remembering the damage they’ve caused—it’s been 2 years, yet staying present. Someone to invade your “personal space” because they crave you, someone to crave, and it is preferably the same person. Someone to mirror your micro expressions, even when they try not to, especially when they try not to, but you notice. To always notice. Falling apart because you are convinced they’ve moved on. Long train rides somewhere far, far away. Not eating, not sleeping. To eat, to sleep. Not washing that one sweater because it smells like them; Not wearing it either, it could mess with the scent.
Oranges, simply oranges. Thank God, oranges exist. Baking for the sake of baking. Never giving up. Finally giving up. Someone to buy your shampoo because they miss the smell of your hair, no, not someone, him. Sharing an appetizer, even though they could afford plenty, and they will end up paying for the dinner anyway. Someone to know how you take your drink. Accidental meetings in the supermarket, both thinking it happened exactly like in that show, and agreeing that it’s not like this with other people.
You think I am ok; You think I am ok; don't you I bet you think I'm just fine The payback's like a boomerang; It remembers everything; It comes after everyone I didn't "Happy New Year" text myself back into your life - look at me growing up! Too many espresso martinis A glass of vodka half empty; I bet yours is always half full; I think it's the patriarchy or my desire to pull a Sylvia Plath I am joking, just joking, my oven is electric
The floor’s wet; my chest split open Why the chest? Unspecified! Everybody knows the grief’s in the hips, duh
It's the perfect lie: Too much pressure Too much to want Too much to need Not enough willingness to try (sad music playing in the background) You wouldn't show mercy, nor would you knock on my door some time in the far far ahead, after a protracted period of doing all the things you wanted to do with your life - eyelashes heavy, deep breaths on my couch (except, I do not own a couch) On the floor, yes, ok, on the floor - It's the perfect description of hitting rock bottom, but give it another six months I dare you, or is this a promise?
The payback’s never too late nor too early; It remembers everything; It comes after everyone Kneeling in the middle of the room, making you feel cool Do you want me to stop? Or, would you want me to join? Skilful mastery of performing for two - I can take care of us both.
Pretty little moments: Unbiased trivia for hoes or never looking back in the name of dodging THE bullet? Stalker alert or rolling our boulder up the hill? Intense, you say As in: I’d die tomorrow if I could. I actually tried a couple of times. Some time between August and June. Everybody knows the second year’s always harder than year one. Why? Undefined! Or, perhaps As in: crazy pathetic I kinda hate your guts now. Everybody knows it's terribly romantic to die from a broken heart.
The floor’s wet; my chest split open
Kneeling in the middle of the room, making me feel - love tastes like Nivea body soap for men and capitulation…bubbles, bubbles everywhere
Your firm collarbone against my forehead on the tips of my toes You haven’t showered today, and I wouldn’t want you to I do (too) think that tomorrow’s not coming anymore
Stay, just stay, would you? two drinks in and I am no longer a stranger Was I ever? It only dies if you want it dead It is only real if you stop running from it When I said I am not a mindreader—I lied
Your hips, my inner thighs Close your eyes, just close your eyes, imagine hiding in love inside an apartment, warming the covers my soften liable toes I do (too) think there’s no tomorrow Stay, just stay, would you? I now must go clean something. Forgive me, I made you uncomfortable I think tomorrow’s not coming
I go to the movies a lot 'cause he’s there I know He is always going to be there
(what a lame excuse)
Nobody cooks in that kitchen, and the spices have grown mold because he knows
(It’s exactly the same)
Messages unanswered Half-opened moving boxes Cheapest ticket; one way Like, I actually paid twice as much for the cab from the airport and into the new apartment
Virgin soil and virgin bed, where I thought I wished, but didn't, and the feet of that one crow in the corner meeting my eyes, shying away watching my likeness talking badly to me, I say bird of night, when will this all be over?
Messages unwanted Christmas lights I’ve been eating a lot of dates lately—trying to stay healthy I figured if I am fucked in the head At least I'll have abs
breaking wine glasses in a sink full of dishes on a Wednesday evening—remember the dinners, your kitchen, the sink, the leftovers, your wine glass broken—your Wednesdays were mine
Somebody said I should stop cooking for two It's embarrassing, and I end up wasting the food I should rather focus on moving on on healing Working my ass off Going out drinking or something and kiss a stranger in a pub flirt my way into an affair with a middle aged man coworker of mine get a new tattoo sell my soul for a promotion smile until I cry—in a rest room of a jazz bar pretending everything’s fine I needed to excuse myself twice in less than an hour and act like the walls weren’t shrinking and draining the blood out of my body sip from my drink like I didn't just spit up my guts in the bathroom old habits die hard haven't done it since high school
The smell of hope takes over, and I don't remember how to swallow ‘cause I thought I thought… how dare you I guess the truth is only mine to carry—chewable tablets for those who aren't ready evolutionary screwed aren't I?
Open the window The air is forcing remembrance
Do some laundry: whites, black and colours piled carefully faulding—towels to towels, a bunch of lonely socks, sweaters, gym clothes—coping mechanisms of a broken home
I can pretend I know how it goes If I open the windows and give the plants a shower If I wipe clean the cupboards and then scrub the oven All of this just for a second of justice A milk-white lie saying: The overwhelm of an early flight I think I am not gonna' make it Tell me again how fascinating I am The overwhelm of an early start; too early sooner than you’d admit I’ll move to another country You won't even know You'll say to yourself "she just left"
The silence? It’s been quiet, and the truth? It’s been coming, and the light? It’s a warning, and the life forgiven? It’s been reaching, and the nights? Nights are tender, and love? Love is grieving, and the loss? Loss is nothing if there isn’t hope, no meaning, clueless anguish of them, dreamers, playing cowards, kissing faces greener-greener, spelling cheeky tendons, and the fingers, getting closer,
do not go
Do not surrender, tell me more, and the softness? It’s been muffled, and the truth? It’s been silenced; it’s a message: you've been summoned, and my feet counting the blues, and the fingers cutting paper, and my love, my love is steep; all the way, down to those circles
getting closer, I’ll surrender
Do not look behind her eyes, days are counted, catch a glimpse of the youthful sparrow— vulgar stare of hope, loss is nothing if there isn’t Clueless sorrow: bones and joints and feet, oakmoss heavy, manly figure greener-greener, deeper, my breath weakened...could you please? all the way towards those circles
She’s been summoned, bird psychotic, deadly grasping to its fall: wasteful habit It's worth nothing, and there wasn't any meaning time has stopped
I walk the same path every day tracking my traces in hopes I’d meet you again and say all of this time it was just—character development Upgrading a couple of now strangers to eternal soulmates Hunting each other in turns
My hips are hurting Ice sharp, rocky covers for sale My poems, let's say They are An altar for my saviour syndrome; Give up the ghost! never - I scream at the wind, some things they they never change I’ll sell my soul to an old gypsy and play pretend—perhaps you also noticed: All our favorite places have closed since then I bet the sky was also blue I bet the city still remembers all the lives afflicted I bet the metro witnessed all the stillness of her tired metaphors
Running in circles like a mouse high on sugar The internet says it’s a brain tumour Hanging by a thread In a wireless era Wire your brain to resist the calling of running when it finally finds you A little bit early in the middle of June prettiest girl ever with hips ice sharp wearing different coloured socks So he said You are a bit too early I'll hate myself if I have to run, but I have to I always do and out of nowhere I want to cut all of my hair off Move to another country Burn all your clothes burn myself if I must Intrusive thoughts meaning The idea of being the only one sober In a crowded bar Haven't seen you in ages I think I am drowning on land dry Hanging by a thread Leaving my body behind Running in circles like a mouse high on sugar Tracing my steps Hoping I'll meet you again I’ll sell my hair to an old gypsy and play pretend I bet he also noticed that all of my favorite places have closed their doors since then
The last 3 letters of the spring 