• 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 would 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 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)

    I do not qualify as a bullet point, nor do feelings mean anything 

    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?

    2 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 let myself remember

  • I go to the movies a lot

    ’cause he’s there

    I know 

    He is always going to be there 

    {what a moron, he let her go, what a film, and killing your rook like that, what a lame excuse}

    Nobody cooks in that kitchen, and the spices have grown mold

    because he knows

    {It’s exactly the same}

  • Nu mai port fustă

    neagră cu poalele lungi, simțită numai în spirit 

    de parcă fibra sintetică ar avea față, cu sprâncenele spânzurate chiar 

    ai crezut că timpul iartă 

    vânătoarea abia acum începe, dragă

    arăți prea alb pentru un cineva care s-a găsit însfârșit

    aceeași 

    gura cât mura

    ochii plini să te încălzească în reflecție, sau să nu 

    moară de frig buzele nesărutate 

    tot ce mi-ai dat mi-ai dat din deșărtăciune—un moise rupător de ape, dar

    m-am înecat în lacrimi de reptilă semiacvatică

    mă crezi?

    lasă sufletul afară

    chiar ai crezut că timpul uită

    la minus 5 ca minus 25 încă se latră la lună

    să nu moară fricile de foame

    în orașul plin de sex conjugat la performativ 

    dureri fantomă de membre amputate

    scroll back la pervazul pe care nu m-ai avut—încă o dată

    nici nu aș purta fustă cu poalele lungi primite în penitență

    un iuda semipragmatic ascuns după tivitură

    scroll back la coapsele înmuiate din living

    zvîc de bărbat recunoscut

    vânătoarea abia acum a început

    de parcă fibra sintetică se roagă 

    să nu mă îndrepte aburul blestemat

    să nu mă acopere lâna bătrână

    pulover de la mama, iar mama îl are tot de la mama 

    haina bună se poartă o vreme; dacă ai grijă de ea te ține

    jur pe ața roșie învârtită pe deget—dureri fantomă de membre amputate 

    scroll back la pervazul pe care nu m-ai cerut

    dacă fibra sintetică ar avea față

    aș întoarce-o pe dos, să nu vadă cum dai 

    scroll back la pervazul pe care…pe vine

    mă vezi, mă auzi: vecinii ascultă

    primește iubirea

    ea este—dacă ai grijă de ea te ține

  • 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-greaner, 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 mid of June

    prettiest girl ever

    a woman with hips ice sharp

    wearing different coloured socks 

    and 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   

  • I never make my bed

    I burst into tears when I am mad

    I miss sleeping in your shirt

    I miss “taking everything from you”

    It’s been shitty 

    I’ve been feeling empty and frigid

    I never kiss on the first date

    unless I want them forever

    Or,

    I never plan on calling them again

    The anger has made me wicked 

    and mortified by all of this bullshit

    She never kissed on the first date

    unless it was 

    a match made in heaven

    over nothing

    My flight had a 7-hour delay

    all of them were spent in bed:

    “I need to see your face”

    This life is a bit harder, shittier, and sadder

    I  can’t believe the empty, the wicket, the frigid

    She never kissed on the first date

    unless she didn’t want to see them again

    I am still obsessing over your words

    compulsively playing them in my head

    Is this love or a disorder?

    I’m losing my shit

    You were right

    I am insane

    Or,

    am I playing the victim?