97. maybe our stars are falling tonight


time without writing is my form of liberation. it’s forgetting, losing oneself in death of silence. and every time i tell myself i shant succumb to the lustre of words, to their shine in the night, i do. and i drive a wedge between us.
one can’t help these things. 

i learnt to sleep without turning, only to stay in your arms. 
i learnt to entwine my legs around you, to hold you in my eyes; to speak english the way nobody else can, taking you on a magic roundabout with my mouth. 
but my breath is free. it swirls like water in a glass; shakes with the weight of the world; breaks in spasms. it parts my lips warm and freezes. it cannot find nourishment in the cold, it loses its essence. like i.

and i cannot give you what i could have given you. or maybe i’m not enough. maybe i never was. only gods know what it is.

tragedy always happens around this time of year. maybe our stars are falling tonight.  listen to them thump as they break the surface tension of the ocean. then wait until they surface.
if they ever do.

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9 responses to “97. maybe our stars are falling tonight

  1. great! I love the ending stanza. it’s good to
    see your work again

  2. i completely love and adore this.

  3. thank you for reading guys :) it has been a while, right? (: xx

  4. ahh, i know what you mean, i can relate so much to your poetry. i feel like my writing and all the words constantly wedges a gap between those i care about. it’s so hard to be two people at once.

  5. I felt this one deeply. . .between the love of words and the relationship.

    Love this:
    “my breath is free. it swirls like water in a glass; shakes with the weight of the world; breaks in spasms. it parts my lips warm and freezes. it cannot find nourishment in the cold, it loses its essence. like i.”

    and this:
    “or maybe i’m not enough. maybe i never was.”
    I lived these latter words recently and painfully.

    Happy New Year, friend.

    xoxo
    Pamela

  6. This is truly intoxicating. One of the things I like most about the way you write is the way you can hang me suspended in that state of not-quite-pain-but-almost. And then I remember so many things that hurt me and am able to hold them at just the right distance as to see how they make me, me. You are truly a beautiful soul and I hope I can learn to write like this.

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