He said he’d patiently watch me-
And when I come out of my cocoon he’ll keep what remains from my previous stage
preserve it under his pillows-
(He never said it though
but I know that’s what he’ll do)
He loves every ugliest and worst pieces of me
and it’s very predictable of him
and sometimes I want to know
sometimes I want to ask-
why does he have to wait for me
when for him, it matters not
Because in an organic sincere way
Even if seven billion eyes see my spark
I’d choose to burn away
just for him
never a balloon,
always a boomerang..
(but I didn’t evolve as a butterfly like everyone did, much like an insect of some sort
I have no name for…yet)
when you like the person you are alone with
you will never have to use anyone
to be happy..
“It’s just hard to see a friend hurt this much. Especially when you can’t do anything except “be there”. I want to make him stop hurting, but I can’t.”
–The Perks of Being a Wallflower
I know that I am not starving
and I could consider myself-
Because people will tell me;
“meanwhile in Africa..” and I’ll have to live grateful hearing that
-and it’s not just in Africa
But what if you’re hurt?
Pain isn’t selective. It delivers when it needs to
-despite your status, gender or your skills
And people will tell you
About the moon and the stars
the flowers and the bees
and paint in your eyes the vivid colors- out there
They will tell you about the real friends you have
the quality of your chandelier
your assets and your koi fish in the pond
Or how even when they’re on the honor’s list
their parents didn’t want to attend the ceremony because-
they didn’t come on top of everybody in the class
-they will tell you how lucky you are and the beauty of the world we live in
But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re upset or hurt or in pain.
And even if others have it worse
You still have, what you have
But you would give up the colors for it to stop
Or the beauty around and live in black and white.
And you want them to stop–
stop looking at the world out there
at the past, on others,
stop looking at themselves
-and look at you
and be there
I’m not here to write a poem
no, supposed I’m not here at all
I wanna know what loneliness feels like-
Does it feel like the tears
you kept so hard,
Feels like curled up,
hidden under your blanket
to look outside?
Does it feel like losing interest in everything?
“Quite, but you’re not there yet.”
Does it feel like being able to move
but not with all your freedom?
Wanting to be still, yet know
the world is moving you?
So, what does loneliness feels like?
If I hold back the tears
If I tried so hard to hide
Cut out my wrist
Would that be loneliness?
without a trace
of this thing