Life and times of a pounding heart

Life and times of a pounding heart

I count each mistake you make while I watch my heart pound. I knew it wanted to learn how to love and stay; remain relentless amidst the storm it chose to fathom. But each passing day, I walk on tight rope and broken shards of glass… of promises made.

I believe in a thing called “faith”. But I also believe in a thing called “truth”. Thus I have faith in truth; and in truth, I trust. I hope and resign to… That as blurry as the dim day, my heart yearns for peace in the arms of truth… of which does not seem to exist in your presence and not even your words.

I sense them in your thoughts but hardly on flesh. And I worry that if I fall, will thoughts and words come catching me or will they bail just as soon as you saw me ablaze… in fear of burning, you disappear.

I wish I could paint pictures even with tired hands and crooked voice to tell you that I am more damaged than I thought I was. That I didn’t mean to search for my missing parts in your stories, or your embrace, or your offer to sustain me, or your tempting cups of coffee, or maybe tea or the nights we lay on the grass, or the way we question life and death itself, or the way you watch me die as I lie awake and you stitch your heart back up. Finding the right words, actions, thoughts… to manifest what love should be like. And at times when I need to cease the pounding the most, I reach out… and I find you empty. And I know I know deep down that it’s not, and never will be your fault.

Everyday, I wake up counting. Trying not to record the numbers but I… hear the sound of my heart pounding. I hear its desire to love and stay again. I hear its outcry that it yearns for a full stop, frozen in the middle of the storm it chose to fathom. And each passing day, I walk on tight rope or on broken shards of glass of promises made. One hand on my pounding heart, and the other on both ears. Screaming.

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There is no such thing as a safe place

There is no such thing as a safe place

There is no such thing as a safe place
Under the screaming whispers of the rain
Cold daylight sets under my lids
The murmurs of the dead
They come crashing
Begging to be resurrected
Like ashes, like lego blocks
Begging to be picked up
Like shards of glass
Waiting
I dreamed I was safe
Under those arms that said love
That begged patience
Making me thirsty in broad daylight
The sky was clear and blue
But the sun basked in flames.
What a pretty picture
Like a beautiful day
A warm kiss of coffee in the morning
Waking up still
With an open hand
For another cup of caffeine
Wake me up and up still
Here to be awakened
To a safe place which was not
Even close to a bed of sheets
Cool and clean against the heat
But the rain echoes in my ears
Whispering loud and clear why
Are you still here?

I will not wait for you

I will not wait for you

I will not wait for you.
None of you. Your freedom
Must not and will not hold
Me back; I have my own.
I am free and you are too.

But you do not hold me in
Chains; Your claws are not
Sharp in any degree. Harm
Me. Scare me. Threaten me.
Wound me. Scar me. But no —

I’m not afraid at all. I can move
Forward and not back, especially
Back. Because that’s the only
Thing you can do but not to me.
I’m too free to be held down

By you, swarm of black demons
That taunt the brave and bold.
I’ll have to finish the race alone
If I have to and I have to. I will
reach the end of the road without

You. Any of you. Race of slackers,
Slow workers and of lazybones.