500 miles

You realize that you have been living in a haze.
Actually,
You already knew that.
You lose track of time,
Of how long you have been clutching at straws,
How many times you have wandered down the same road,
How many times you have felt that strange deja vu,
Of seeing the mile marker:
500 miles to freedom

Maybe it has been three years,
Or maybe seven!
The fog makes everything seem flat.
Grey oceans of thick,wet fog,
Rolling in ominously.
You walk in circles
And you see the mile marker
Again and again:
500 miles to paradise

You can't remember the last time you enjoyed doing something!
Solving a problem,
Creating art,
Working till your bones creaked,
Or your brain hurt.
All you can remember is grey.
A tuning fork humming steadily in the background,
An eternal note,
Echoing softly with clarity
In the fog,
As you stumble by the mile marker:
500 miles to life

You know you have walked thousands of miles.
Surely, this can't be right?
Despite the tired bones and the numb legs
You know you kept walking.
You never stopped.
Despite the nasty, cold, clammy mist against your cheek
Like dead fish,
You kept going.
Surely, "there" isn't that far?
But somehow you know,
As you trudge along, summoning all your energy,
As the mile marker comes up by the edge of the road,
Sitting innocently,
Barely visible through the fog,
You know it's going to say:
500 miles to home.

A case study of time and change

Time flies.
Time drips.
Time inches like a snail,
Leaving a sodden, slimy, trail in its wake.
Time flits,
Time lingers languidly,
Time flutters like a dancing snowflake,
There and then forever lost!

Four years, five years, six years.

We hope to change,
Grow, stronger and wiser like an oak tree.
I hold on to the broken pieces,
To the emotions of memories forgotten.

I have forgotten, but I cannot forgive.

Time grinds by,
Like a great wheel,
Crushing innocence and naïve dreams
I embrace the zest of the unknown,
And yet hang on to the murky past.
Perhaps, that will be the best it will ever be!

Time slips by,
Like a rich, satin cloth,
So smooth that we don’t notice it!
People, friends all seem to float along with it.
Time taking them to new journeys
Or destinations.
I hold fast to the creases on this sheet,
Desperately stalling the inevitable,
Holding on to any traces of having been human.
To have loved,
To have lost.

I wish I could say I have changed, but that’s a lie.

Time flows like a great river,
Meandering then furiously crashing,
A crescendo of angry froth.
Holding on to a piece of driftwood,
I try to swim against the current.
To validate my unfounded rage,
While the answer, I know, is to let go.

I will never let go.

Purge

In the beginning, there were bells and violins; the smouldering coals of passion and lust, increasingly frequently occluded by the the clouds of potential romance. In the end, there was the delicious saltiness of purging tears. Pain made her clean again.

Emotional Haiku

Less dead,
I try to feel
Inside.

Conversation

I can not
Express
How important it is
To speak
And
To listen.

Fin

I think what you did was right.
Ripped off the band-aid,
Demolished my castle in the air,
With a blunt wrecking ball.

The pain feels surreal this time,
Not sharp,
Not burning,
No tears in my eyes,
Although they threaten to encroach upon my plastered smile.
Just a numbness.

My arms feel weak.
My legs, heavy.
My brain, buzzing with static.
And my soul,
Weighed down.

Sure, I will bounce back!
This is after all, my story,
My feelings, my words.
My world, where I am allowed to be selfish,
Callous,
Self-centered,
Self-absorbed,
And filled with deep self-loathing.

Thank you though,
For reminding me what it feels like,
To want someone,
To want more than their body,
To want their being,
To want their soul,
To want their laughter,
And their soft touch

Thank you for reminding me,
That I still have a beating heart,
Beneath all those layers
Of put-on cynicism,
Scar tissue of years gone by,
The shell of fear
And the vehement opposition to change.

Thank you for your honesty,
Your sweet innocence,
And the time we had.
And despite the bitterness of my tired soul,
I wish you nothing but happiness.

Farewell, my love!

Ode to the uncertainty of love

I think I am falling in love with you,

And I guess that’s okay.

Slowly and steadily!

I tell myself, "Be cool;

Be strong, be brave and be detached!"

And then I can taste your lips on mine;

The way you eagerly explore my mouth,

The way you bite my lower lip,

The exhilaration in the pain;

And I feel myself fall,

Slowly, watching the blue sky open up over me,

Bathed in the rays of the bursting dawn,

As I fall through pearly white, cottony clouds

And float towards the world.

I think I really like you,

I don't want to, but I guess that’s okay.

I wait for you to text me,

And I worry when you don’t,

Fretting and huffing and puffing,

Wowing to hate you,

And to forget you,

To erase your very existence,

From the landscape of my mind.

And then you say hi,

And I can see your smile,

Warm and guileless,

Innocent like a day old child,

And the dimples that crease your cheeks,

And the way your eyes light up,

And I have already forgiven you

I think I want you,

It's hard to admit but it's okay.

I want to be hard as nails,

Defensive, like I have taught myself to be,

Immune to emotions and pain,

Apathetic and indifferent.

Cold when couples come together at the lips,

And join themselves at their souls.

Cold, as cold as New York on a January morning.

And then I remember the touch of your fingers,

The way they linger,

On the naked skin of my back,

Your lips on my neck,

Setting me on fire,

Your kindness and your urgency,

Your patience and your passion,

The way you said my name,

The way you held my hand,

The way you chained me to your bed, by your side

The weight of your body on mine,

And the comfort of your arms around me,

And the walls of ice I built,

Melt away.

I think I want us to be together,

It’s a long shot, but wishing it, is okay!

I know we live on two ends of this island,

Seems like two ends of the world on gray days and textless hours.

It will be hard,

It might be excruciating,

What with me and my baggage

And you and your past.

But mostly me and my baggage.

But when I think of holding hands,

Walking through the fall leaves in Central Park,

Arms entwined,

Kissing on the terrace of the MET,

Walking through the West village,

Sharing a hot chocolate at Serendipity

Or in my apartment,

Curling up in your soft blanket,

Watching Netflix on your laptop, naked,

It seems worth it.

I don’t know if we are meant to be,

If this is really a thing,

Or just a flash in the pan,

A one night stand,

A blip on my stream of random "romantic" rendezvous!

I don't know if we are going to grow old together,

Live in a ramshackle apartment together,

Or even go out on a date together,

But then I think of you,

And not knowing seems okay.

Taking a chance seems okay.

Deciding to trust seems okay.

Who knows?

Maybe we will be okay!