17. We exist

I don’t know which type I am. The A

type which is always ready to for an

adventure, would want to talk on the

phone and not really on the message

Or the B type, the one who really lie low,

loves to be left alone with their

thoughts, just need a book and coffee.

I don’t know which type I am. I am the

one who wants to be there, always,

with my friends, having fun and seeking

adventure but not always, I carry my

favorite book to my favorite places

alone and in that quest, I start feeling

lonely, the kind of lonely that comes

when you’re surrounded by people. I

don’t know which type I am, I think

these types were created by us to make

the people conform to the set principles

and to understand ourselves the way

we perceive everyone else, ordinary and

vanilla. So, I don’t know which type I am.

I am the type who gets a bout of spunk

only sometimes. The kind of courage that

forces me to download a dating app but

doesn’t help in actually going out and

meeting people. The type that enables

my every act of sneering insolence and

makes me believe that I am a product

of these baseless by-laws, and I’m ought

to be like this and act like this. I don’t

know which type I am, but I know that

I am not what the world wants me to be.

We exist.

16. Welcome to my Ted talk

I’ve come to a halt. My body

doesn’t want to move, it is

breathing out air, inhaling and

exhaling but moving, no. It is

done, I am done, my brain, my

body, every nerve in my system is

done. I recently watched this

show called “Feel good” in hopes

to feel good myself, and it hit me

like an epiphany, how comedy

often masks the complexities

of nature, we call it mental health.

So, now that I’ve watched

something that was supposed to

be feel good, and I don’t feel good

after it, I think that the feelings that

are resonated by my mind, my body,

will go unnoticed. I don’t know how

to feel about it and whom to talk

about it. So, now, my body is in this

state of self loathing with an ounce

of anxiety because I wanted to watch

something that’d make me feel good,

but instead I watched something that

made me miserable.

* golden thread *

longing,

a tortuous ache -

penetrating pain which reminds me that you are in my bones.

from the first hello, a golden thread appeared. a fire ignited deeply into my blood stream. electric bites under my skin.

euphoric drums banging in my chest, echoing your pulses

feet leaving surfaced land, as we dive freely into the abyss.

your hand in mine is when I realized,

that my soul knew your soul lifetimes ago.

© ScriptedSilence. All rights reserved

* soul - tangled *

the creep of longing felt so deeply in my bones

exhaling

clinging to you

releasing all scars

allowing beauty to swallow pain

right here, you’re so close

breathing in my heartbeat

wrapping your soul around me

going deeper

tangled

whispered touches kiss flesh

calm and fire collide

a balance of desire and serenity

engulfing flames as healing waters crash over again and again

in those secret hours,

between the sun and the moon

refuge is found

because of your existence,

do I know love

© ScriptedSilence. All rights reserved

* tattooed ache *

I feel your heart

inside my own

pulsing

consistently breathing me back

to life

peace fills me

as I melt into your calm

bare

naked, exposed

I am before you

my layers and skin unravel

in ribbons at your feet

unknown worlds cradled in hands

your song tattooed upon my soul

tasting tears, swallowing laughter

loving in ache

you,

you, my love

you are everything

© ScriptedSilence. All rights reserved

* savage *

moonlit tangled sheets

stardust sprinkled

across pillowed dreams

eyes locking my wants to your fervent desire

pulling you into this insatiable reverie

swallowing euphoria

just by inhaling the scent of drunken lustful lips

clenched thighs-throbbing need

beckons bite marks

to commit

the most outrageous sin on your flesh

run your tongue up my soul

bend until we break

licking portions back together

boundaries pushed

and raw rapture exposed

head spinning dizzy

savagely

consuming you whole

until you

only remember my name

© ScriptedSilence. All rights reserved

* falling *

your words

dance under my skin

like a prayer and a curse

parting holy waters and feeding fire

my addiction and my cure

the ache in bones

emerge

encased in safety

like a gentle collision

the careful surrounding parchment walls

fall,

disintegrating upon the forest floors

making beauty out of the shadows

the waking universe falls away

as we delve and fly deep into nothing and everything at once

brimming in destiny

love pulsing beyond our worlds

riding upon every unknown wave

finding adventure in uncertainties

only knowing

I would rather fall with you in the dark

than see the honey coated stars

with anyone else

© ScriptedSilence. All rights reserved

* wrapped *

I’m wrapped in your fiery ache

loving you in light and darkness,

as the sun loves the stars and crystal moon

enveloping whispers

between the shadows and the realm of the illuminating soul

sheathed flesh

revealed

quaking upon insatiable phantoms

howling with endless craving

pulsing through my chest

each throb vanquished

in plea of you

deep entangling deep

flowing serene waters

I’ll drink from your cup

and swallow the entire ocean

if I shall drown, let it be from the honey

which drips from your tongue

I will come up for breath in the taste

of your mouth

© ScriptedSilence. All rights reserved

* a poet *

loving a poet can bring forth

moments of ultimate euphoria,

as well as pain that you feel 

into the depths of your core

poet is the religion and the muse the deity 

for the muse,

you ache, you  please, you desire

while on bended knee

you break

passion consumes

thoughts overflow into words

beauty and pain are seen deeply through the 

mind’s eye,and even more potent

in the depths of the soul

when a poet loves,

every pulse of the heart will cascade

that love will be made immortal 

by the power of words

flesh touched by ink stained hands

making love by the song in which your love created

the melody of words imprinted upon the heart

the lyrics tattooed upon

every inch, every crevasse of the skin

your love becomes a poem

etched under the layers

the memory lingering

long after both hearts depart

your poem is forever aching

under that fine lining burning through

your veins

a poet has a restless heart

say nothing for hours

and never at complete peace

a continuous search within

never completely satisfied

words overflow onto paper

yet there is never a full understanding settled

the mind races, the heart aches

the soul longs

many emotions are never spoken

yet every truth of thought

flows with fluidity through the ink

loving a poet 

is to live constantly on the edge of darkness

but forever, in the light

of beauty

© ScriptedSilence.  All rights reserved

* music box *

notes floating

melodically

from a measureless distance

calling unto me

euphoric vibrations

trembling my core

soft hums echoing so distinctly

into my deepest chambers

somberly carrying a symphonic euphony

captivating the realms of my heart

the truth of my soul

drawn upon these chords

a resonance of angelic whispers

in which only I can hear

in which only I can feel

removing death, beckoning me to life

a luminous reflection

upon the slowly opening lid

beholding flawless beauty as

magnetic strings effortlessly entangle

such a harmonious sound

of ardent lullabies

fully embraced

within the sacred

music box

© ScriptedSilence.  All rights reserved

* ethereal *

the darkened honeyed sky

brings your scent to me

a collision of hot and cold

trickling down my spine

as the starlit winds cover me in your heightened pulses

deeply felt melodies

coursing through my veins

melting me into you

I cling to the ethereal rivers

a unison surrender

enraptured

betraying all urgency

descending

I taste every secret, as you cradle every dream

caressing unknown layers

engulfed in tender luminous

you own

the deepest portions of me

© ScriptedSilence.  All rights reserved

* shift *

the air shifts as we drown in the night winds

the stars dance through your window

moving

I press in closer

wrapping around you

I feel your breath leave slow and shallow at the edge of sleep

knowing your pulses before your heart beats

I lightly kiss the fluttering of your eyelids,

as I slowly trace the fullness of your lips

inhaling all things you

feeling you in my bloodstream

loving you whole

never breathing you out

© ScriptedSilence.  All rights reserved

* voracious *

my mind is wrapped around your tongue

desiring the taste of you

I’m in so deep

my entire being stays in the space between here and there

eyes closed, head tipped back and my chest full of ache.

the fire of bones

carrying words

crawling across, teasing skin

collapsing walls

creeping into the bloodstream

coursing through veins

charging through fast enough-filling the heart- before it can empty

swelling and bursting

the blood so deafening

I can’t hear a damn thing,

but everything that falls from your lips

© ScriptedSilence.  All rights reserved

Pic credit - Steve K.

* submerge *

I have fallen into your waters

stars behind my eyes

your words pulling me into a serene lull

enveloped around each layering current

your lungs cradle my breath

as your heart pulses through my veins

all in

drowning slowly

toes never reaching the ocean floor

inhaling liberation

eyes wide open

keep me embraced

in your waves

© ScriptedSilence.  All rights reserved

* cover *

in an instant you spread through me like wildfire

as my face lay restless upon your clavicle

a creep of longing tumbles across my neck and back

wrapping limbs

pulling in close

now tighter

heated skin from the pressure building

feral and teeming

a calm hurricane

a whispered voice nuzzling my ear

dancing through me,

spinning waltzes in my veins

breath suddenly feeling far too heavy to catch

you see me on purpose, through my skin

bare bones

you are the kind of love that soaks you

pulling you apart from the inside

crashing and ravaging

yet tender and soothing

fingers wrapped in tendrils of loose hair

I find refuge here, in your embrace

you are the light that breaks through

when you come out of the shadows

please, keep me covered

only with you

© ScriptedSilence.  All rights reserved

* immerse *

the clouds slowly cover the moon

the faded light seeps through the dark sky

the wind blows, howls, chants

eyes closed - heart racing

I feel you

breathing me in

I taste you like thunder

scorched gums

swallowing lightning

throbbing into my netherworlds

as the plea of you rolls off my tongue

this storm is brewing

debris of turmoil stirring

head- spinning out of control

you reach for me

wrapping me in your blanket of tenderness

covering me in your calm

I feel safe, so safe

please

keep me hidden

right there

in your soaked embrace

© ScriptedSilence.  All rights reserved

*Inhalation*

words find me in

the dark

reaching like a beacon of light

drawing me in

moth to a flame

pulled

I surrender to your warmth

deep inside

beneath my skin

the chemical of you flows

fiery droplets

licking lips

tasting contradictions

caressing intensity slowly

forehead to forehead

eyes flutter shut

electrifying bolts up the spine

knees buckle

pressing closer

needing closer

your oceans fill my lungs

© ScriptedSilence.  All rights reserved

i don’t want to write about love anymore.
not after you.

i don’t want thousands of words
scribbled on paper
spitting on my face
mocking me.

i don’t want to be reminded
of the love
and of the hurt
and of the begging
that were only as fleeting
as you were.

our forever was supposed to be longer.

enough.

it hurts enough to physically manifest itself in the throbbing corners of my chest

enough to let gravity get a hold of my eyes

enough to force me out of a stable state of mind

enough to push me into the corners of the bed, shaking

enough to revive all the thoughts i have long fought to forget

enough to make me feel like i wasn’t, i was never, i will never be

enough.

once upon a summer, a boy once told me how he takes his bath in the morning.

“i do not start with the feet,” he said. i made a face and he laughed.

“it’s true. i do not work my way up. instead, i surprise myself. i start immediately with the head and i don’t think twice about it. otherwise, it would leave room for doubt. and doubt never gets me cleaned up and showered, does it? so every morning, whenever i take a bath, i just dive in…head first.”

i couldn’t believe it. a boy, at a summer review center, literally just told me how he takes his bath every morning. and there i was thinking he was a cosmic intervention. a revelation. an epiphany of sorts.

of course. it all makes sense now. it didn’t matter that he had no way of knowing if the water was excruciatingly cold or painfully hot. it didn’t matter that he had no idea whatever was going to happen next. it didn’t matter that he didn’t think well and twice about his choices. it never did. because that’s life. that’s the whole goddamn point. to take risks, to gamble, to jump at every first chance. to dive in…head first. and just hope for the best.

they call it reckless. i call it faith.

sometimes when it rains, i think of you
how i used to wrap my arms around you
but also, because it reminds me
of every teardrop i have shed for you

sometimes when it’s dark, i think of you
how i used to love touching you
but also, because it reminds me
of our dark days that are now behind me

and every time i wake up, i think of you
how i used to wake up next to you
but also, because i’m reminded
that you defiled me on this very same bed.

i only spoke of you to the sun
i told him of your smile
the way they can get away with anything
it was like the glow of his rays, i suppose
beautiful, but blinding

sometimes i spoke to the ocean
i told her of your mind
the way your thoughts never cease to amaze me
just like the profundity of her waters, i guess
deep, but sometimes dark

and on rare occasions, i spoke to the stars
i told them of my desires
and they always remind me of the distance
of beautiful things only meant to be seen from so far away

and so i just don’t talk about you at all
not to the sun, not to the ocean, not to the goddamn stars
i just think. about you. a lot.
a whole fucking lot.

forward. step. back.
forward. step. back.
i take a step forward,
and you take a step back.
dancing to the same rhythm
for years now.
your hand on my hips;
touching, but not feeling.
my fingers on your shoulders;
grazing, but not gripping.
never quite holding on,
never quite letting go.
just…dancing.
in perfect sync.

when the day had come,
i had all the strength
of the days you pushed me away.

and when the clock struck ten,
i had all the strength
of the nights i cried
of the times you lied
of the kisses more dead than alive
of the scars on both our skins
of the bruises that we covered
of the voices turned to screams
and the melody we sung together,
broken as it seems.

so when the day had come,
i had all the strength
of the days you pushed me away.

and when the clock struck ten,
i had all the strength
to let you know i’m walking away.

I want to list every bad thing about you. Every mistake, every imperfection, every regret. I want to caress your scars and rip them open. I want to hold your heart and pick out the parts that are wicked and evil and broken.

Because that would make it easier.

It would be easier to just say you hurt me, that’s why I’m walking away. Easier to think I had no choice, that’s why I’m refusing to stay. Easier to make it seem like we did this to ourselves, you and I. Easier than the truth. Easier than reality. Easier than breaking your heart when I tell you things didn’t fell apart.

I did.

I fell out.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

my skin used to melt at your touch.
you used to touch me all over
with the eyes of a lover
now you’re touching me with eyes wide open.
you touch me with detachment
you touch me with restraint
i used to shiver at the static running through our veins
now i shiver at the coldness of your fingertips
you touch me with death
you touch me with decay
now i’m left with all bones and no flesh.
my skin disintegrates at your touch.

if i lit a spark
down my throat
and let it
burn its way
through my veins,

if i set fire
to my hopes
and watch
the memory of us
burn up
in flames,

i would
catch fire
trying
to reach
for the ashes.

when art was supposed to mean freedom,
you wore it on your wrist like shackles.
writing with the burden of metal weighing you down;
making a bloody mess out of a clean slate.

when art was supposed to be spontaneous,
you chained your legs on time-ticking bombs.
forcing emotions out of your hollow chest;
breaking your insides, but defusing the blow.

when art was supposed to make you feel alive,
you drained yourself of chasing after endless lines.
exceeding limits, cracking bones, straining souls.
enslaving your body to your own work of art;
master it! and turn it into a glaring masterpiece.

it’s not right for you to be just fallen in love with. i will take the whole damn gravity out of the equation if it means i can love you without ever falling out. without limits. without spaces. without ever reaching the ground.

it’s not right to just say i love you in words. i will spell it in constellations. i will carve it in gold. i will drip it in blood. i will sing it even if my lungs give out. and i will never tire of telling you the depth of my love for you, even if it’s the last of my breath. i promise.

it’s not right for you to settle less than what you deserve. i can’t give you the world but i can give you my life. i can give you other people’s lives. i will die in a heartbeat for you. i will kill for you. i’m a slave at your disposal. make me a criminal. make me yours. i will do everything and i will follow you to the edge of the earth or to the bottom of it; to hell, fuck it. i’ll follow you still. if you will have me.

how have revolutions
been merely reduced
from strongly taking a stand
to suddenly standing on our own graves?

how have we been silenced
by the very set of people
whose only duties were supposed to be
making the voices of the masses heard?

how are we to fight back
as a patronizing nation
if our very own opressor
is the one seated in power?

how are we to turn this around?
if in breaking the wheel of the tyrants,
the power must lie within the people.

but the people doesn’t know;
and the people refuses to see
that every revolution has begun
with the people’s plea.

it’s getting harder for me to only touch the tip of your fingers when all i want is to hold your hand and to pull you in closer to my skin. it’s harder especially when you’re this close, moving towards me, at a pace a little too fast for my breath to catch up on. my thoughts, that are forbidden to ever even reach the tip of my tongue, are getting harder to supress. especially when you speak first, about art and the future, with a gentleness in your voice that sounds a little too sweet for my ears to stifle.

you’re making it harder for me not to fall for you love, because how am i to do that when you’re this close? when i can see you this close, in macro lenses, in all of your imperfect glory. how am i to ever get enough of you when i could just reach you if i tried? and lord knows how much i’m clenching my fists to stop myself from ever even trying.

must blood water the streets first
before you draw open the curtains
to the roaring commotion of the people
beneath the tall glass windows?

must the sky ooze red
from the loss of so much innocence
and must the thunders howl
the painful screams of the slain poor
before the cold harsh winds of truth
force its way into the tall glass windows
of you, privileged few?

need a hurricane shatter your fragile ideals
so you can smell the reek of death and utter decay?
need a storm flood your sheltered morals
so you can feel entrapped in the jaws of your own cruelty?

for although you can run, you cannot outrun
the blood that has been left dry on your tender hands
the night you closed your gates and went to sleep
while the streets fought to keep its eyes open.

first, i allow them into the chaos that is my life; not exactly welcoming them in, but leaving the door slightly open for them to find their own way through. 

second, they see me for all the things that i am good for: the woman, the writer, the artist. they learn to love me for the ideas in my head, for my perspective of the world, and for the choices i have made to get to where i am today.

third, they catch sight of me in a new light, or a lack thereof. they get to know the hardships i’ve had to endure, the pain i’ve had to go through, the loss, the childhood, the trauma, the pain, the side of the story that i don’t ever let the public know. that’s when they commit the mistake of trying to fix me as if i was ever broken in the first place; i was not. that’s when they mistake this fixation as love and that’s when

fourth, i start walking backwards. they start walking faster and i start running away. i start building walls and they start to rethink if i was even worth the chase; i was not. i didn’t want to be chased, i wanted to be left alone. in my own space. at my own pace. so i isolate myself and they stop finding me. and that’s when

fifth, i lose them. i always lose them: the people i’ve allowed into the chaos that is my life, the same people i’ve allowed to see me naked, stripped of glitter and light. it’s a pattern i’ve been trying to deconstruct for years and i always lose. i lose all the fucking time.

is it possible to leave a breakup unscathed?
should there be bloodshed in places
where you and i used to dance on?
should my memory of your lips when you smile
need be stained by the memory of your lips
curving into sharp, twisted words?

does a breakup entail forgetting?
is it a requirement to walk out with the door slammed?
is there a need to leave with a heart burdened with so much pent up anger?
should it warrant an explanation?
will words soften the impending wound?
i don’t know, maybe it just needs to hurt like a fucking bullet?

men, to me, are walking pages of raw emotion.
they breathe color into this ashen world.
as i welcome them in, they snap my walls
and i break into pieces, but i let myself fall.

men force pain out of its thick silver chains
so it could enslave me in its shackles.
when the iron burns my skin, i’ll watch it glow
and i’ll immortalize the memory of the sting.

men unhinge the cold metal doors of torment
so it could entrap me in its dark little cages of despair
and when i’m lost and i lose track of my own sanity
i’ll let myself be completely consumed by the madness.

for men, you see, when they leave,
they leave all the sting and the madness with me.
so i let this kindling burn through my veins in the most primitive way:
writing, with a passion too naked and brutal for this world.

it’s walking the city streets
with my face blending into
a blur of a million passing faces.

it’s being lost in a sea
of art and talent
and never reaching the surface.

it’s looking up and realizing
i’m too far below the summit
of the highest skyscraper.

it’s being unremarkable,
and not being bad,
that i fear most in this life. 

The early morning rises and my mind is still awake, my body is pumped, and my heart is still beating fast from the three cups of coffee it took me to keep my eyes open throughout the night. I waited just in case you wake up. It was just in case you call me in the middle of the night again; or maybe at the crack of dawn, when the world is still half asleep and the only two people conscious of everything that is real are you and I. It was just in case you needed a break from the truth. I was willing to be your refuge. I could rest among the darkness when I am with you, no matter if you’ll be gone when the sun comes up.