Tag Archives: poem

Indigo

can we compare notes?
can we call a truce, but not sugarcoat?
not to save the sinking boat,
nor to romanticize the abuse.
it wasn’t all rainbow, i know.
there was no excuse.

but even so.

i’m not here to attack,
i just really need to know.

fifty days of no contact.
are you just laying low,
waiting for me to pull you back?
or have you completely let go?

and when you do look back,
what is it beyond the shadows
of all the fights and setbacks,
what is it that echoes?

was it bittersweet heartbeat,
or something above and beyond?
would you call it love,
and is it all gone?

fifty days of silence.
have i been replaced?
at the point of no return,
am i completely erased?

was it all just a show, an act
i was meant to outgrow?

was everything an artifact
now that the sky turned indigo?

Good Girl

Do not call me a good girl.

It’s a name programmed in my brain.
It activates pain, it pushes me to perform
to the point that I go insane.
Else I’d catch a snowy storm
and raging hurricanes.

But I was so devoted. So hungry for validation,
for being doted on, and drowned in adoration.
So committed to gain approval.
Submitted myself, at every beck and call.
Just to feel safely small.
To float in a constellation of emotions.

But then free fall.
Like a rag doll.
After all
Left alone.

So do not call me a good girl.
Or baby girl,
or sweet little girl.
Or any girl at all–I’m a woman.

But
Do not call me YOUR woman.
I am not yours.
Nor do I want to be.
For I was his.
And look where that got me.

Ashes

She stood silently, watching her castle roared into a blaze.
Not by war, nor betrayal. She had brought the fire herself.
The flames danced before her, mesmerizing so,
despite the ruin in their wake.

No more banquets shall be held in this hall.
All wine evaporated into the air.

Why would a Queen burn her own throne, one may ask.
She stared, teary eyed.
I was cold, she said.

Gone were the cherry pies and rosemary lamb,
for all she could taste was ash.
And her clothes were frayed, but who fucking cares,
when the cinders keep her bare feet warm.

And on, the fire crackles, filling the night with its echoes.
She raised her face and gazed at the ashes of her crown,
flying up, up, up in the air.
Then she whispered a question.

Is this all there is?

The fire hissed,
but it did not answer.

A Loud Love

If the Buddhists were right and after we die we get reincarnated, I may be reborn into a new life where I don’t know you. With a new body that hasn’t ever felt your touch. A new set of eyes that have never seen the way you look at me. Lips that have never tasted your kiss. A heart that has never skipped a beat because of you.

And yet I’m sure I will bear a soul that aches for your love.

Cos you really are my “once in a lifetime”. And I don’t know if you’ll ever believe me, but if after this I live another life or two, or ten, or a hundred—I would yearn for you in every single one.

Yes. You proved it to me. How yours is the kind of love that’s so loud it echoes through every corner of my being; A love so loud I’m sure it traverses beyond my existence. Even in a new consciousness, as a new stranger all over again, I may not feel truly alive until your love reverberates through my pulses once again.

So find me again, will you? And again, and again, and again. Keep being stubborn for me, won’t you? Until we meet in the life where we can finally be together—Fully. Truly. Loudly.