An Awkward Collection Of Poems About Death #3

 

The thing about loss
Is that it didn’t hit me
When it happened.
I didn’t feel loss.
Not when I got the call.
Not when I attended our last party together
Everyone wearing black.
Her favourite colour.
Not when there were two bodies
and only one person
that last time I saw her.
Pale.
No, I didn’t feel loss.
I felt everyone else’s loss
And made it my own.
A vacancy inside me
Filled with pain
not of my own doing.
And that made it worse.

It was three days later
I was checking my phone
And I didn’t see her name
Pop up at the crank of dawn.
She wasn’t on my recents
Only recently passed.
The vacancy started to fill up
With the deafening sound of absence.

A week later I was at a book store
I found a book with chapters named
Only in odd numbers.
She was an odd little one.
She would have liked it.
I almost bought the book for her.

Thirty one days later
That movie she wanted to see
Came out.
I went alone.

It’s just one never-ending monotone.
Sometimes you forget she’s gone.
She’s still there, you know.
Writing, eating, breathing.
Am I lying to myself or is time lying to me?
And my ears pick up the monotone again.
A frustration.
Of so much to say
But when you turn the recorder on
You realise you have nothing to record.
Succumb to the monotone.

A year and a half later
I shift to a new city
Unloading the pieces of my life.
I find a stone.
Our hike up the mountain.
When she told me
She’d move mountains for me.
And suddenly I feel selfish.
Because I had not thought of her
For a year.

The vacancy never really gets filled.
The pain just numbs until
You trick yourself into believing
You are as you were.
Whole.
Without loss.
With nothing to find.

I don’t think I’ll ever stop looking.

Autumn Sweater

I see her in the distance
It’s been too long
She isn’t the way I remember her
Maybe I imagined her wrong.

She’s more radiant, authentic, real
And I can see her flaws
But that’s what makes her the
Girl I once loved.

I hesitate, should I move towards her?
Should I utter a meaningless greeting?
After all these battles and wounds
Will she be hostile; bleeding?

Should I be too? After all she
Broke me, bled me till I was black and white
Till colour wasn’t in my dictionary
Yes, I will keep my stand and fight.

She broke my heart,
I’ll break her apart.

But her eyes catch hold of me
Like dreams in a dream catcher
Like a forest fire beautifully ablaze
Like the spectrum of her laughter

I remember as her eyes search mine
The childish crinkles and giggles
She’s more beautiful than in my dreams
Memories, traditions and kisses.

I was wrong.
I replaced my heart with my liver
My dreams with revenge
And my nightmares with her.

I move towards her and see
Her eyes, bubbling with fear
Did I really scar her so badly
She can’t have me near?

Pools of unbridled emotion emerge
And I take a step towards her
She doesn’t move away
My senses blur.

I’ve never seen her so afraid
She was my queen and I was her king
But the girl in front of me
Is a deer in headlights, carefully listening.

I move closer. Her hand
On my face is my medi-sin
Her scent, her eyes, her neck
She is my skin.

She is my home.
I was running away
Elixirs and potions to drown my fear
All I needed was her to stay.

I’ll stop running away now.
I need her, now and forever.
She is my home.
She is my autumn sweater.

Open With Caution

‘Open with caution’, he warns
You may not like what you see
Thousands before you have feared
The real picture of me.

I open the box with hesitation
Mixed with fear and elation
The creek opens an empty cabinet
Is this his biggest temptation?

‘Ahh, I see you have found it
The mirror of my heavy spirit
The box is empty and so am I
This is what you are to commit.’

I look in his eyes and see
The opposite of his reality
He is so full of life and love
He’s a lock and I’m the key.

My hand on his cheek I say
‘I’m willing to take the risk and stay’.

Little Brown Puppy

There’s a little brown puppy
Down on my street
He has scars on his ears
And dust on his feet.

When I walk past him
He scurries away
I catch a glimpse of his eyes
They beg me to stay.

So I come around often,
And he meets me there
I decide to adopt him
He deserves that much care.

But when I take him home
Be bites me and scurries far away
He doesn’t know what love is
He is afraid.

Molotov Cocktail

The problem with loving someone like her is that
she’s going to get herself killed one day.

She’s got that fire in her eye
Warning signal, red and smoke.
She is armed and dangerous
Dare not be foolish to provoke.

She’s clever and quick
On her feet and in wit.
And she doesn’t believe that
You can’t have your cake and eat it.

She’s that curious cat
Purring everyone into submission,
But we all know how the
Cat turned out in that rendition.

People are either wary of her
Or in awe, mouth open wide.
Some are even scared
Some have no where to hide.

Because she can infiltrate your mind
And a civil war will play out,
Can you love a molotov cocktail
Beyond a shadow of a doubt?

Accident

For her:

You’ll regret this, love.
In your heart you know it too.
You’ll love her today and,
She’ll leave without you.

You don’t want to believe it, love.
She’s porcelain poison.
The way she looks at you today,
She’ll look at another man tomorrow.

She’ll make his heart beat faster,
Than she would with you.
You’ll stay up long nights
She’ll sleep without you.

Don’t stand a chance against her
Lips, eyes, scent, hips.
Neither can him, so love.
Walk away, innocent.

‘How do you walk away from
Someone you love so much?’
Ask her, she does it all the time.
With one gentle touch.

She’ll be in her worst senses,
Cause an accident with a ‘friend’.
Knowing you would forgive her,
You’ll love her till the bitter end.

And how would I know all this, love?
I am her, I know I’ll do all of the above.

Toxic shame

A constant pounding on the inside
Trying to escape the feeling,
Of being crushed by the idea of
Yourself, that others are seeing.

I’m pounding on the doors.
They aren’t bending to my command.
Yet I do the same for,
All the people that demand.

That I shut myself inside
For I don’t have the strength.
To break free from my shackles,
All my hope is spent.

Some laugh, some pity.
Some try to act like nothing has changed,
It didn’t occur, I did not try,
and then shamefully fail.

Failure is the fatal poison to my hope,
Of thinking, one day I shall be worthy.
To rise and make my kin proud,
But I fell before I even tried for glory.

She laughs at me, “You?”
She says, “Are not worthy of love.
Not that anyone would want to,
You have nothing to be proud of.”

Maybe she’s right, maybe not.

The only way to decide,
Is to vanish; a soul lost young.
And see if anyone pays their respects,
To the soul not worthy of love.

Wandering, but Not Lusting

“Wanderlust.”

She drooled over the word,
With shiny, wide eyes,
She repeated it like it was her highway to an escape.
She dreamed of paradise.

In the middle of conversations,
She would tell us where she would go.
Because all the things around us,
Were mundane, boring and old.

She said there was no excitement,
No colour in her life.
And with her new-found vocabulary,
She would set the colour balance right.

She would visit the Amazon,
And prove she was one too.
She would stop by Paris,
And sip coffee under the sky blue.

So as soon as we graduated,
Free to choose our own dreams.
She packed her suitcase and
Was never again to be seen.

I imagine she would have chanted,
‘Wanderlust’ in prayer.
As she boarded the
Automobile that would take her.

To the place she always wanted to go,
I wonder if she ever found it.
This traveller’s biggest flaw was
She couldn’t bare the sound of silence.

Me? I live a normal life,
But I do find paradise.
The beauty is in the smallest of things,
A look or two would suffice.

For the idealist that trotted the globe,
Only found Elysium.