Armour

Every day when I dress,
put on my rings,
my little pendant that I favour these days,
my eye liner
my lipstick
I feel as if I'm putting on an armour.

Tired when I come back,
heavy from the weight of it,
taking it all off
feels like a small personal liberation.

Alone I don't have to try to avoid attention

 

anymore.



Future plans

In a year from now,
when I'll live closer
and everything will be softer
and the memories will have washed off

[the intensity of them rather]

I want to have a chance,
in a semi-dtunken conversation
in the early hours of the morning
before the light of dawn,

[when eyelids are heavier
and words sincerer]

I want to have the chance to tell you
of how I felt
a year back.

[No matter of the changes since then]

Of the terrible loneliness
the longing
the feeling of weakness

and then the numbness
arriving
uninvited
but welcome

however terrifying.

Light

One of the things
I really loved
was the light in your eyes
when you looked at me.

One of the things
I really hate
is doubting
it was ever there.

Need/Want

There are
certain things I need.
I need air.

There are
certain things I want.
I want you.

When I can't have
what I want
I'll settle
for what I need.

And brainwash my self
into changing my wants.

Plan

Above all
others need stability.
I need

an escape plan.

Silent

We're silent.
I'm empty.
We talk.
I'm happy and sad
at the same time.

I think
I'll just
let you

fade.

Calmed and detached

I thought about it.
I thought and thought.
I talked about it.
On
and on
and on.
Of the distance,
your girl,
our mutual silence.
I hate it all.

I decided

to give it up.

To stop
asking,
on the inside,
for you to return
feelings that you cannot give back
at the moment.
Maybe you don't feel them.
Nevermind.

I'd rather
we talk,
I'd rather
settle
and be "friends",
I'd rather you trust me enough that you can tell me

"I need you.
I want to see you."

If you ever feel that way.

I'm going out with a guy tonight.
Maybe he'll occupy my head just enough
to trick myself
that I don't miss you as much.

someone

you can't bring yourself to sleep with someone
and suddenly
you can't sleep
without a specific
someone.

Deactivated

I hate hospitals.
Have I told you?
No, how could I
ever?

Yesterday was exhausting.
I went
to the hospital,
in the morning,
sleep-depraved

heart depraved

self depraved,
as always.

I crashed on the patient's bed
while she was in surgery.
(Against the rules,
but the nurse let me sleep.
I must have looked

horrific).

My limbs hurt
and were stiff
by the time I was replaced.
I looked at her
anxiously.
And she sleeped.
For a moment
the images of last week's funeral
all crushed in
all crushed me.

I'm terrified of old age.
The helpnessness.
The loneliness.
The inability to get up
and walk away.

And everything turned to white.

I immersed myself in the letters of Anais Nin
and Henry Miller,
desperatelly,
but that did not help

as her words
were my words
and his words
reminded me of you.
(Do you ever think of me
as such?)

I had the fashion show at night,
my body still hurts.
And then
weed followed.
With strangers
and a friend.
I half hoped
its narcotic fume
would enclasp me

would relax me

would erase me.

Sadly it did not.

I deactivated facebook
just for a while
to completely severe myself from you.

Just for a while.

I wonder whether you'll even realise
the complete absence
of connection.

No words
today.

Exhaustion

I realised yesterday
what I already knew.
You can't really connect with someone you cannot see,
you can't touch.
It's frustrating
to depend so much
on a little green dot.

After the funeral,
and before,
I wanted to speak with you.
To tell you of the exhaustion,
the mental and the physical one.
To tell you
that in order to go through the funeral,
and the memories that came unbidden,
I had to detach
and I did it so perfectly
that I'm still numb,
still unfeeling.
To tell you of how my friend,
my sister,
whispered in a hoarse voice,
"What you did today,
the way you held me,
supported me,
I will never forget."
I brushed it off,
because that is what friends do.
It was nothing special.
The only thing I'm aware of
is the pain on the inside of my skull
like something in there is trying to break out
and shatter my head.

The nights are empty
devoid of sleep.
During the day
I walk as an automaton,
exhaustion bringing on dizzyness.
At times I look around
disoriented.
Exhausted.
Trying to collect myself.

*

I see you in strangers
and those people
turn into instant magnets.

They pull me in
with false promises
of echoes of you.
But I dare not forget
they're their own person
who could destroy me
in their own unique way.
I'm scared I might fall
for someone like you
and never trust the feelings
for fear they might be an overzealous search for you
in an efford to forget you.

The thought of someone else's lips
kissing me
feels like a knife
against mine.

*

We spoke twice in a day.
Um.
Wow.

I felt
so surprised when you messaged me
in the early hours of the morning.
Happy,
weird,
I felt a lot of things.

I was with a friend,
smoking and drinking,
(bad habits bad habits)
and talking and thinking
too much,
we always do everything too much.
Think too much,
drink too much.

Feel too much.

The world is either too much
or not at all.

(Said "I miss you"
and you said
"me too".)

 

Little green dot

So sure I was
you didn't notice
I was surprised by your message.
I was surprised by my eagerness
surprised by my joy
surprised by how easy it still is to talk to you.

I've grown
so accustomed
to sadness
that I did not know
how to react against the surging wave of happiness.

I feel stupid though,
because I know
that after we talked,
at some point,
you probably fucked another.

(

not a problem to me

you've only to write to me

when you're here

)

 

So you said.

Probably so I shall do.

Until again,

it gets too much.

 

(Everything always

become too much with me.)

*Again*

That's the stupid part.
I want you.
I want you.

And the way you looked at me,
it couldn't be faked.

That's what hurts the most.
The could have beens.
The needs to be.
Please,

Fuck me.

Fuck everything.

Fuck this shit.

Fuck my weakness.

Silence

Yesterday night
I went to bed
drunk
naked save for my red oxfords
but to no avail.
Sleep seemed to escape me.
And I was tormented
by the memories that come unbidden
in the land between the Morfeus-embraced zone and those wide awake.

Awake
I stare at the green dot next to your name
and will you to message me
but really,
I've already lost all expectation.
You're already fading.
I think I already have completely.

And I said to myself
"When someone doesn't message you
it's either because of cowardice
or lack of interest.
Either way
it's
same shit,
cause you woulldn't know
any better.
No point in talking about it."

*

And it is
just the mention of your name
that makes me feel as if I'm high.

I wanna fuck strangers
until I forget
the feeling of your naked chest against mine.

I was fine before I met you

Shit.
No.
I'm lying.
I was lonely before I met you.
It's just I'm so much more lonely
since I met you.

Trouble with people are
the closer you get to them
the more you realise
you crave it
and when you can't have it,
you're just not sure
how to be act like before.

I don't want the before.

(It's love we're getting over
not pain)

I don't want the pathetic needy me.

I'm growing stronger.
I don't need you
in order to live.
I just want you to be
part of it.
All of it.

Shit.
Too much melodrama
from my behalf.

I should stop bullshitting myself

at some point.

Cold thoughts in a warm night

I kind of long for winter,
it's cold wind against my face,
deadening the senses
and waking the mind.

Sorry,
I'm lying,
mostly.
I kind of long for a winter
that will turn my skin to ice
which the warmth of your skin will break.

It's way too early
to be sure
you won't message me
on your own.

Otherwise,
I want a winter
cold enough
and busy enough
to erase all thoughts of you.

(The memories are too fond
to be forgotten.)