Resettling Roots

I’ve set my roots and let them grow deep into the core of the earth

My flowers bloom and turn to face the sun

My leaves outstretch from the stems that grow firmly from beneath

I sway with the wind and dance to its rhythm, all the while keeping up with my pivot

My core helps me remain upright as I graze the beauty of my surroundings

Day and night, the beauty of this city enlivens me, and its familiarity envelopes me in a blanket of warmth

Its fast-paced life and ambition inspire my roots to expand further and my leaves to reach out to greatness

I thrive…

When my roots got a sense of you, they became a lot less attached to their environment

My roots, my stems, my leaves…my core is ready to pick up and leave to an unknown world with you

To begin anew and set roots in a place that my flowers haven’t witnessed before, where they can’t get around with eyes closed

With you, my core is willing to sway and weaken only to be stronger as it reestablishes in unison with you

We thrive…

Foregone Demons

Swords slashing my soul, tracing my arteries and the outline of my skin

I separate into pieces as the images burn holes in between my ribs and up my throat, out through my eye sockets

The weight of the world on my arms, like blocks of concrete that I carry across the globe

The words get stuck in my throat, mixed with the tears that form an overflowing reservoir inside me

My heart can’t handle the pressure, the rupture will be upon me if I take a wrong breath

I attempt to run away from it, but I remain in the loop… like looking into a mirror with another mirror right behind

Every day I love you more and every day it burns me more

I scrape away the demons but they latch on to me, the leftovers growing like tumors under my skin

Help me make them go away, I’m drowning in desperation

Suffocation

It burns me, pinches my insides and ties knots with my intestines

I feel the tightening in my throat

I clench my hands to the side of the chair and my entire body starts to swell

I stop myself from breathing to help block it out, to stop my heart from rupturing in the event of another movement

I can’t fathom the reality, I try to cancel it out: this must just be a figment of my imagination

My heart begins to pump faster, I take apart the skin on my thighs

The veins on my neck swell, my blood is gushing, I am overwhelmed, overpowered, unheard

It’s the most sensible thing to do, they say

I have to go, his blood runs in my veins

She needs a vacation, an escape from her own reality

I might regret it later, our time here is not infinite

They ask me to do it for her, for him, for them

But my absolute self-destruction is swept under the rug

If it is so right, why does it feel so wrong?

Going Around in Circles

I still search for you among the crowd

Every place I go to has your traces

My mind creates images of your silhouette as it would’ve been if I got there earlier

You’re always a few steps ahead, out of my reach

Or maybe behind? Conveniently, where I can’t see you

It’s an endless, useless circle

I’m tired of the flashbacks, the pangs that throw me back to the times I try not to think of

You’ll always be my tipping point, the emblem of my transitions

I catch glimpses of you in others

The heat radiates through my body, needles pierce my diaphragm

It’s always a close match, but it’s never right, it’s never you

Vinyl Shatters

Photo: Rupi Kaur by Carlota Guerrero

You live in the moment, enjoy every new tune as it starts.

The moment is all that you’ve got, there’s no promise of tomorrow, and no point to sulk over what already passed.

But do you ever come across a feeling when you plead for the chance to erase those slivers of your past that you wish weren’t a part of you?

What if deleting them alters who you are?

It pains me to think of all the times I’ll have to recollect and look back to tell and frown upon my misconducts, not wanting to look truth in the face.

I’d love to bloom in your hands and show you every corner of me but some pieces are so dark and I’m afraid it’ll swallow you, destroy what we could’ve been.

Not all parts of me are pretty. Maybe you’ll decide to turn back and I don’t blame you, it’s as great as it gets and it’s all good at first glance.

I’m a rollercoaster ride and I don’t know how much of me are you willing to take.

Everyone says the same story, the same melody plays in different words, I’m too familiar with the tune.

But will your record break like all the ones before you?

December Droplets

I wasn’t lying when I said that winter is embedded in my skin.

“It smells like rain”, I say as I sprint to the window. Pulling back the blinds, I see the droplets slowly accumulating on the windowsill. It was bound to be, the clouds spoke of it earlier.

That distinct sound of tires against asphalt is shifting again. The outside becomes a wilderness of wonder, sound, and coldness. My senses sharpen again, a hedgehog that feels invaded.

Winter is my favorite. The vast voluminous clouds, like white ballgowns in the skies. The first rain of the season, like dew on morning leaves after condensation. The atmosphere feels anew, a chance for new endeavors.

I can sense it even more now. I’m reconnecting with my reality. I’ve stepped into the snow that is nevermore in our desert. It makes the places that I’d rather leave a little more bearable.

It shoves me into the past but it makes me feel more alive.

How can the very time that brought me so much pain also bring me so much contentment?

It’s almost like I cannot breathe without the presence of this season.

I wasn’t lying when I said that winter is embedded in my skin.

The End of the Beginning

I’ve become a lie. Maybe you would prefer to call me a “memory”. I’ve faded into the past but spread through your needy shell. You still need me to breathe.

I was the key that you held in your palm, but you dropped it too many times. Pieces of it chipped away with every fall and scratch until finally, it didn’t fit into the keyhole. It was the evaporation of all your dreams. The crack of whatever sanity was left within you.

Your name still smiles at me from your handwritten letters. Gateways into a past of fields of flowers that all died at once after a murderous fire. I stopped looking back. I’m growing my own field now, I can’t allow another darkness to envelope what I worked so hard on forgetting.

The reins of my trust have been tightened once again. It was them, now it is you. I felt like a mounted mustang that wouldn’t suppress a gallop no matter how hard you tried to force me to a halt. My willpower was strong until you tore through me too. You didn’t kill all of what’s within me, but you pushed me to enclose myself in a vault so much stronger.

You carved me until I was a thin crescent in the night sky. Almost missed out of sight by the regular human. But being a crescent meant that the chance for a new moon has finally come. A form of reincarnation. I coincide with my closest distance from the human eye.

The show must go on.

His Flower

 

Photo by Baljit Singh

“Come here, my flower”, he says as he pulls me into bed.

Crisp, clean, white sheets. But I can still sense the invisible stains of tears etched within the fabric.

He brushes a few hairs behind my ear, an excuse to feel me just a little longer.

Soft, strong, manly hands. Despite the warmth they radiate, I can’t erase the memory of their wrongdoing.

“Why are you so dense?”, he asks as he rubs my shoulders.

The same exact spots. He traces all the scars. His fingertips glide over the rough bumps left over from my self-hatred. It burns.

He doesn’t know how to hide it, I can see that he likes it. The memory of my pain is his pleasure.

I pull away but his grip only tightens. I feel entitled. I shouldn’t feel the need to pull away since “he’s not like the others”.

Aftertaste

Your favorite memory, the sweetest melody you’ve ever heard.

A painting you came across at a gallery and a sentence from a book that changed you forever.

A person that lit a fire inside you. One which was hard to put out.

A mediocre night ride under the city lights that made you feel more alive than all the parties ever did.

She guided you to the light the night your demons wouldn’t let you sleep.

Every great thing in your life is a form of her. She is the only memory that matters. She is the sweetest tune that won’t stop playing in your mind like a broken record.

For she is the person that loved you most, and hers were the eyes through which everything was made so much more ecstatic.

For she is the one whose presence made the meaning of that painting so much more powerful, and hers was the book whose pages changed your life forever.

For she is the one whose blazing inferno took over you, down to the very last atom.

For she is the one whose hands held you when living didn’t seem like an option anymore.

The Fog

 

Photo by Mohammed (3rdclue)

The sky was wrapped in fog and our vision was distorted. All we could see was the road in front of our car. Everything ahead was blanketed by a cloak but we were following a route we knew so well. We were set on our way to reach our destination.

This scenario made me think of our lives. We set goals, we dream, and we plan with hope. We make decisions about how we want things to go and how we want our lives to turn out but all we can really see is where we are right now. Everything we “plan” for is forever covered by a blanket of the unknown. Despite the fact that we don’t know if we’ll reach our planned destination, we still follow the path we chose.

It’s extraordinary how we as human beings live every day making plans without really knowing if we would be able to successfully meet them. Despite the denseness of the fog ahead of us, we go after what we set our mind to because even if we don’t arrive there, we will arrive where we’re supposed to be.

Life’s all about taking chances and going after what we want by planning out our routes and taking the needed turns when we have to, to try and avoid a possible collision. Yet, sometimes collisions are inevitable and we have to undergo various consequential calamities. That too is a vital part of life. Without clashes, we won’t see right from wrong nor will we be able to depict our future choices as bad or good. It somewhat turns our failures into successes in disguise. These collisions and bumps on our foggy paths become a source of our personal growth.

I began reflecting this on my own life as well. I pondered upon all the big dreams and long-term goals I built for myself and I asked myself, how am I so enthusiastic about all that despite having no clue whatsoever of what may happen tomorrow? That’s when I bounced back to a Thomas Edison quote that says: “I have not failed, I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work,” and I realized that this is the essence of that vitality. The vitality of taking risks, calculating possible outcomes, yet going after what we’re passionate about with both our hands and feet.

I’m going to leave you with this, fellow reader: regardless of the unknown, chase your dreams. You may start off somewhere that isn’t exactly what you dreamt of but don’t let that stop you from exercising your passion. One day when you reach your pedestal, you don’t want to be stopped by your unawareness of what you’re stepping into since you were too afraid of the fog.