-
Breathing is labor: one of those days
One of those days when the song on the radio brings back time and it stays and every shed tear, every far-off laughter returns like a ghost from a former chapter. One of those days when my mother’s voice in my memory sways; all her quiet wars, her calloused grace, still a warrior, her love I held dear yet too often misplaced. One of those days when no word you offer can alter my haze as I name myself a failure, a field gone dry, where seeds of dreams fell but forgot how to rise. One of those days when I’d welcome the arms that once dealt me pain for…
-
In the soft light of November I remember
I don’t know what led to what first; the warmth in my embrace, the cold side of my bed, the soft Christmas songs whispering the arrival of a new season. How ironic that forgetting was how I remembered the memories that survived Memory is a cruel tide rushing in only when the shore has grown quiet again, when I finally stopped searching for your face in crowds, stopped replaying the end like a scratched vinyl that’s when your name came back to the tip of my tongue, weightless uninvited like a ghost tapping the glass just to prove it still knows the way home. And maybe that’s all love ever…
-
Danger in a Stranger
I can’t seem to move past the praise, Past the chase, past the pretty lies I was too blind to decode in your embrace How you want me, but you don’t? How there’s no one like me but they all are when you need some? I can’t seem to find solace in water alone Or in mantra lines or in all the fish in the sea Or in the bullshit that’s supposed to heal me when I’m torn When the tequila is weaker than your moans and your cologne and though I’m grown and I’m strong I still can’t find my way home I can’t seem to be able to…
-
Echoing Thoughts and Unknown Answers
I tried to write something uplifting, something cute, something not only inspirational to me but to others. I tried to do that this evening because I wanted to stay away from the usual melancholic tone of my posts. For once, I tried to paint this in a different color, but came back with the same shades of blue. Let’s just state, or reiterate, that forced “happy” thoughts make no echo, though. When I read others’ poems/stories/words, I want to find a connection. I want to know that it was worth every second. Somehow, I want to relate: awaken my mind, provoke me, trigger my deepest thoughts, arouse me, inspire me,…
-
Melancholy is in the Air
When the evening shadows and the stars appear, And there is no one there to dry your tears… ~Adele, Make You Feel My Love What do you do with the memories? Don’t you wish sometimes Memory Lane did exist in physical matter so you could revisit, sit by a tree and stare at it all? The past should have no business in the present — shouldn’t — but it does.
