Do you remember when we bought tea and tubs of ice-cream in a cafe and sipped on strangers
I had eagerly reached an hour earlier and waited, imprinting my feelings for you on a napkin
You walked in late, stroked my chin, said you fell in love with the way I fell in love with you
I wanted you to hold me close, stay with me, tell me that you liked me too. And you did.
We spent all our time chasing rooftops, tasting snowflakes on outstretched tongues
On some days, we’d dance and you’d twirl me around until the world was a blur
We once climbed a ladder leading to nowhere and I was afraid of the descent
You told me to trust you, to slide down the rungs, and that you’d catch me
And I did, and I did, and you did. I can still feel you wrapped around me
You used to say that not having me by your side made it feel like you
Were cities away from where your body lay and I felt the same way
So, we spent every minute planning the rest of our lives together
“Do you want children?”, “Do you want to leave this country?”;
“Do you promise to stay even when the thrill starts waning?”
And I did, and I did, and you did. Home was a human.
If you learn to stay quiet enough for long enough,
You can hear our happiness echoing the room.
If you perk your ears up carefully and listen,
You can even hear yourself promising me
One, that you would never let go of me
Two, that you would never walk out
Neither would you ever hurt me
Nor ever grow to despise me
And you did, and you did,
And, of course, you did,
And, eventually,
You Really
Did.

Transfixed

At this very moment, there is a mother in her balcony
Two buildings away from me, pacing away wildly.
She is cradling an inconsolable child in her outstretched arms,
Whispering words into the infant’s ear to soothe him.

My eyes are tracing every ginger movement of hers
She looks like most new mothers I see- exhausted and
lonely and exasperated and overwhelmed and loving.
I cannot help but marvel at her tenacity, I want to ask her
Where she gets her strength, her patience, her tenderness from?

She looks at the road below her and locks eyes with me.
We are caught in this still gaze, I find myself transfixed
There is so much noise, the noise around me; the noise in my head,
Yet somehow, I can hear her heart beating, pacing away wildly
And I think that from two buildings away, she can hear mine.
For a split second, I can hear her softly singing a melody I last heard
as a wide-eyed child. A lump forms in my throat, I am about to fall and break
But the clock ticks, and she is once again, just a stranger caressing her baby
And I am still standing on the road, transfixed, idle tears rolling down my face.

Directions for use

On crisp and warm days like these,
I think about how much easier it would
be if we came with ‘directions for use’
manuals firmly embossed on our skin.

I would then know that the man
who sells pastries across my house
often softly cries himself to sleep,
That the wide eyed boy I call a friend
has never been told that he is loved,
That the smiling child with soft skin
playing with an assortment of toy cars
was, not too long ago,
roughly thrashed by punishing hands,
That the woman who gave birth to me
needs to be handled with utmost care.
That my neighbor of over twenty years
cradles a shipwreck between her ribs.
That the girl I live with
frequently examines herself in the mirror
by my bed and sees nothing but flaws.
That a person I once knew all too well
now delicately oscillates between revival and collapse.
That the man who asked me for directions earlier today
is trying to forgive himself.

On crisp and warm days like these,
I wonder what my skin would have to say about me.
Would it say that I miss sunlight peeking into my room?
That I understand that I do not understand?
That I am feverish with fear?
That I want to distance myself from who I am now?
That I am obviously not yet dead but definitely not alive?
That, with a loaded gun, I often play Russian roulette by myself?
Or that on warm days like these, briefly, I feel okay again.

 Friend

Dedicated
For my loving and supportive family,
For all those I have known and loved,
For every dog who has ever lived
For the stars - dead, twinkling, falling
For me, my younger self, my older self
For a friend - nah - the only friend

This may be odd but I have a friend in me,
If that wasn't odd what will follow sure is
She swings on my tissues, lives in my chest
More to the right than the left of the chest -
Exactly where I used to think my heart was
When I was fifteen and did not know better
Now, I know better but don't do any better.

She doesn't sit still, I can feel her moving
Glides to my throat and grips it when bored
Climbs up further to hide under my tongue
Before I can scrape her out, she slides down
To where I once thought my heart was

This friend of mine has been lurking in me
For years now, as far as I can remember
She might just be the only friend I’ve ever had
Not a friendly friend, she doesn't really like me
She sounds just the way I imagine myself sound
I think if you saw her, you would think it’s me
If she is silver, I am grey - who is to say
Which is which and who is who