Dear David

Dear David,
To wait for you to come home is to wait an eternity; both my heart and yours know better. You and I, we both deserve so much, but not one another. One day I clasp my fists so firmly and pray for you to crawl back to my embrace, the next I thank the lord you are no longer here to burn my insides to flame. I am sorry if it makes you seem like the bad guy.
It has been ninety-four days. Ninety fucking four.
Ninety-four days knowing that no Morphine but you will ever do. Ninety-four days and not even the fire inside my heart could keep me from shaking. Ninety-four days, my dearest and my beloved, my loveliest most tender lover, without you by my side.
God, I could have sworn that I have not slept for once because your empty side of the bed did not let me be. It was always haunting me that it was not in my power to have a single thought that was not you, or something that I wish I could reveal to you.
I am sorry; for I never told you that ever since, all my sunsets were devoid of color; that the absence of you is not the absence of ache, but the complete opposite.
Still I know, in my heart of hearts that we are not right for each other. That we are not thunder and lightning. That we, my dear David, are two different seasons. We repel.
Do you know what it's like to be the wrong person in the wrong place? Like burning sun in the midst of December, and crashing rain in August. Odd. Very odd. I think we were like that in each other's lives. It was only fair for someone to walk away from the other.
But in the days when I think that all my feelings have dried up, my pen starts writing words of grievance, in the loving memory of our love.
So  David, I beg you to teach me how to forgive you. I beg you to not haunt the rusted corners of my brain at 4 in the morning and keep me glued to my bed for what seems to be forever.
I beg you to teach me how to let go. Because I understand that you have used up all your strength to love me, and I was never easy to love.
Out of all the eulogies I have written for our love, my tears were the sincerest.
Goodbye, my David.
Yours, no longer,
Me.

It is summer. The sky is painted in the clearest shade of blue. Head over heart, I am all calm.
You walk me home every afternoon. Loving you is the only thing I've done right. I am sure. I am sure because you surround me with light. Your scent kissing me, your soul stuck to mine. Even if the heavens were grieving I wouldn't fucking mind.
Warmth, sweat, insanely in love with you. Every feeling in the universe, swiftly poured into me, I cocoon around the entirety of your skin. I am finally home, and nothing shall ever hurt me again.
I watch the light around me dim, ever so quickly in the winter. You slip from my hands, but I hold onto that last thin thread of what could ever be. The skies are bruised and all sounds are wrecked. I am left there as if I will never bloom again, for it feels like I am standing at the heaven's gate with an empty heart; standing at the open hands of god, and still admitting that I have got no home left.
But in the spring I promise to water myself again. I promise to not bathe myself in our sins. I promise to find a place in the sun for all that I've done.
I promise to find me another home, without our memories buried under the bed.

A prayer

Dear God. I have not spoken to you ever since it has ended. Presumably because what happened has deprived me of all the language I had within. But I am here, asking not for a miraculous change of events, asking not for a recurring nor an everlasting inconvenient fairytale to turn my world around, asking not for you to take me out of this dimension. I wouldn't ask for any of that, because I have this tendency of not asking for too much.
But God, I am stuck here. My lungs start collapsing at the dawning of every new day because I do not want to live through it. I do not merely want, but desperately and hopelessly need distance. So much of it.
God, I need room to breathe.
I need to be far; to not be trapped in this crowded city with all the noise and all the unsteadiness and all the people that make me feel like I don't belong.
I, dear God, need to wake up at a different place. A different space. Because every time I shut my eyes I see a life that I'm not living and a scene that I'm not a part of. I see a world that calls out for me, elsewhere.

Dear God of all gods, to the creator of the universe and you whom I call out for on my terribly silenced nights: the voice in me has become an echo of all the prayers I repeated before sleep, hoping to wake up to something different. The voice in me is cracking with the breaking of my own heart. My heart does not speak for itself anymore.
God, I need to escape. I need a place where the sun is not hiding, where the breeze is not followed with a storm, where there is serenity, where there is air, where there is me, light and diaphanous.
Take me out of here. I am begging and I am pleading, for there is no more light left in me. Can't you see?

For my beloved. My one and only. And a love as infinite as the universe.

A year ago
I thought all love ever did
was fold us into smaller pieces
until we are not there anymore.
I am not the first person you loved.
You are not the first person I have held the hands of.
I have a body full of scars,
we both know loss
more than the sound of our own voices.
Our love came,
when we had both given up on love.
And all your love ever did to me,
was make me grow, and grow,
until I could reach the sky.
Until I was the sky.
I fell for you,
when I was shaking.
Anxiety was eating my insides.
Ten months later,
And I wake up, not scared anymore.
I wake up, ready to fight.
You are every color of God's painting,
the root of the root of the creation of this world,
the madness of science that I adore,
the metaphors of poetry,
the reason of all reasons of physics,
the music in my head,
the rhythm that I know by heart.
And I,
I know it's hard sometimes,
to show me the cracks
of your perfection.
I know it's hard 
for you to give me your soul,
completely naked.
But please know that I,
am not afraid to love you.
I am not afraid to hold you and call you my own.
I am not afraid of your scars.
I am not afraid of your bad days.
I, my dear one, love you, as you are.
Whether it's the days you are a blazing mid-summer sun,
shining so brightly,
dancing with the breeze 
and laughing like pain does not exist.
Whether it's the days you are a hurricane,
quietly aching, and then breaking
everything in your way.
Or even the days you are 
breaking down
into my lap
not knowing the answer to any question.
You are still the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
Because nothing,
not even my anxiety
not even my bad days
not even your worst nights
will ever change my love for you.
And even this, is not half of what
my heart holds for you
because I love you 
more than my heart can ever hold.

A dedication.

This is for all the times my body was bruised and knocked down, and not even the sound of thunder could move an inch of me. 
This is for all the times I failed to see the light when it was clearly daytime outside. And all the times it didn't matter if there was any pulse left in me.
It was scary. It was scary to look at the size of my body, and see how small I am; how no part of the world could fit me perfectly like a sweater.
It was scary, trying to create distances out of every breath I took because there was never enough air to keep me here, and my insides were always crowded.
I am no saint. I made poetry out of blood and romance out of smoke and jokes out of delicacy. 
I am a killer in disguise. For myself I have murdered, a hundred times over.
And I, like any other sinner, always had my reasons.
But no apology is ever sincere when actions are striven to be justified.  
And then one day, at what seemed like the break of dawn, I stopped swallowing the words I threw like knives at my being.
One day, I threw them all up.
See, before what I thought was my last breath, I fought. I fought like the devil.
I am no saint. I make peace with my ugliness now. I wear it like my favorite sweater, and it fits me perfectly. 
I am no saint. I no longer cringe at the cracking of my own voice. I learn to love it.
I am no saint. I look my fear in the eye, like a good ol' warrior. 
I am a sinner. I put my pieces back with glue, and never look back.
I am a sinner. I chase death until it's worn out.
I am a sinner, with no shame. Because I now love myself unconditionally, with just enough strength to drink all my past sins in, and carry on.
Because who said I was made to be anything less than the universe anyway? 

There is this scene that keeps flashing back and forth in my head. You are not in it. In fact, you're not there at all. Yet, somehow, you're the reason for it.
And I keep wondering how and why and in what world of whose god is it normal that you are a part of everything that you are not made of. I keep wondering how you fit perfectly into each and every picture, and how each and every perfect picture is always missing something, like some essential color, if you're not there.
This is how the scene goes:
The sky is just right there, the clearest shade of Blue. The sun's not blinding nor is it burning, but there's just enough light to warm up my heart. And the wind does not leave a human skin untouched.
There you exist, in the simplest act of God. There you exist, my darling. In each and every place I look.
You are not a metaphor. You do not stand for something else. You are something else.
You are the silence that I long for when everything is loud and unclear.
Dearest, I know. I know life can be strange and overwhelming. And sometimes our days can be on repeat. I know how it frustrates you.
But there is so much more to you than what you, I, and the rest of the world get to see.
There is much more to you than what you know.
So remember that there is always light, but only if you don't keep your eyes in the dark for long.
And remember the warm summer days of the smoke and sweat and our laughs echoing through all the corners of each part of this city.
Remember the cold winter days when I kissed you with a burning passion in my heart to never let you go.
Remember each time we hugged when it started to rain, and how we never mind getting wet, because there's always a better thing to do than regret.
Some days, I will not be there. If that ever happens, call my name. I will hear you. No distance can ever part us, no wind can ever carry you away from me, no love can ever be greater than ours.
On the days where you think that you are such a mess, I will wipe you clean.
On the days where you are ashamed of who you are, I will remind you why you shouldn't be. I will always show you what you can't see. I will always trust you to be okay on your own, and will not mind it if you are your own person.
On the days where you're as happy as a kid, I will look at you with the warmest smile on my face.
To sum it all up. I will always be your loving best friend. And will always be your lover.
In my absence, I will still hold you with invisible arms, and a love twice as big as the universe is.

A crack in the ground

A hole in a wall

One big thing

That's ever so small.

You can have me,

And grab me by the

Hand

Or taste a burning fire

On my lids

And bury me

Deep in the sand.

Gods from above,

Angels on earth

Demons in love

A chaos rebirth

Will you be

My mortals in disguise?

For I can hear

The wind

And sea

And birds

And trees

Tangle beneath me.

I cannot reach them

It's a whirling breeze

But I am growing

So let me be.