can you tell me, why de ja vu haunts me like a predator stalking its only surviving prey? the de ja vu, embossed with its frenchness. just like you. just like those kisses you plant on my lips, their buds opening in the middle of the darkest nights, as i wake in cold sweat, clammy hands turning on the lights to chase the demons away.
and i realise, that love is french, italian, dominican. but more than that, it’s foreign to all of us. it’s language – mysterious hum in the early-morning air, it’s lands – unbounded by borders, it’s people waking up every morning, just like the rest of us, seductive scent of coffee in their kitchens, shatter of broken cups imprinting its echo on the windows.
and when i think of love, i think of the mess that coffee would make, drops collecting, puddle spreading with every beat of the heart. my mess.
and it doesnt touch you. you’re not really here. not entirely.
and love doesn’t cut you with its broken china or stain your slippers with instant coffee, fresh those marble tiles.
does it touch you at all?
…
it’s been three months now and i’ve nothing to tell me that i’m yours, only a herbarium of those flowers you bought me the day my mother went to the zoo with my little sister in tow.
only a dead plant, in an envelope somewhere, next to Y’s unopened loveletters and the note that X kissed so that a part of him may remain with me forever, or whatever his reasoning was.
and at night, in somebody’s kitchen, in a land far away, my heartbeat keeps the coffee flowing.
Posted in chapters of my life
Tagged air, all, away, beat, border, bought, broken, bud, buds, can, chase, china, clammy, coffee, cold, collect, cups, cut, darkest, de ja vu, dead, demons, dominican, drop, drops, early, echo, embossed, entirely, envelope, every, far, flowers, flowing, foreign, forever, french, frenchness, fresh, hands, haunt, heart, heartbeat, herbarium, here, him, his, hum, imprint, instant, italian, just, keeps, kiss, kissed, kitchen, kitchens, land, lands, language, letters, light, lights, like, lips, little, love, make, marble, may, me, mess, middle, mither, months, morning, my, mysterious, next, night, note, nothing, now, of, only, open, out, part, people, plant, predator, prey, puddle, realise, really, reasoning, remain, rest, scent, seductive, shatter, sister, slippers, somebody, somewhere, spread, stain, stalk, survive, sweat, tell, that, think, three, tiles, touch, tow, turn, unbounded, unopened, us, wake, wake up, waking, was, went, whatever, window, with, x, y, you, yours, zoo
how did i manage to walk this yellow-brick road and stumble into the emerald city without any sense of realisation? without triumph or glory? without stopping to admire the view?
how is it that i almost can’t remember what my Auntie Em looked like or of how i’ve grown into these ruby slippers, mine by default and no more?
and darling, how comes it none of it matters any more?
my past is past.
i remember i worried that it may not last. that it’ll lose itself in the water of oblivion somewhere in the base of forbidden fountain. but i know now that the cyclone that brought me here will never return. that chasm has been closed off forever as of today.
my citizenship application has been successful and i am ready to see where else this yellow brick leads.
so here i am now, cruising this jade-encrusted city, as the green glass glitters in the pale light of the setting sun.
my toto has run off, or maybe he was never here, but what does it matter? i was always meant to walk these streets alone. and somewhere in the distance i hear the wizard command “close your eyes and tap your heels together three times. and think to yourself, there’s no place like home.”
so i do.
and i remain standing just where i was, the bright lights of london like a disco.
my own private party.
Posted in chapters of my life
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glittering soot on her eyelashes 