the other side of the moon.

leave me on the other side of the moon.
where darkness is a home
and where loneliness is a friend.
leave me with the loudness of an empty being.
with the echoes of silence
and with the anger of an abandoned surface.
the other side of the moon.
my soul in distant translation.


not yours and not mine.

i keep forgetting.
i am not yours and you are not mine.
i keep thinking.
this has to be it.
this has to be what fairy tales tell.
this has to be a silver screen feature.
but surely i have to be mistaken.
for i keep finding myself saying.
i am not yours and you are not mine.
why then.
why do your tears fall to rest on my palms.
why does comfort lie between my lips. between my arms.
with your head over my chest.
mimicking the winds and time passing through ruins.
you leave me with jagged edges every time.
with every i miss you. with every i need you.
with every smile from across a crowded table.
i have to remind myself.
i am not yours and you are not mine.
so i try to not love you.
but without a thought you say let’s go home.
and a look on your face tells me.
home has to be somewhere in the distance between you and me.
for we have no home to call ours.
yet at a doorstep you want to leave me.
but still stay with a hand holding mine.
a game for fools you play with my mind.
and as you stand in front of me.
while you take a love tailored for only you.
i whisper to myself.
i am not yours and you are not mine.

everything but goodbye.

you said everything that night.
everything but goodbye.
take care.
i will miss you.
you look beautiful tonight.
stay in touch.
if goodbye is so hard to say.
why don’t you just stay.
must you look at me.
with eyes of uncertainty.
expecting me to know the right words to say.
i will not clear your conscious.
or say goodbye. for good.

to ask for help.

i never knew how to ask for help.
the words blades slicing my throat.
taste of metal drowning my mouth.
my hand clenches in a fist.
questioning how to extend in need.
never had a talent in saying “i need you, i love you.”
a language foreign to this tongue of mine.
instead i write.
between the lines. between other words.
beneath paintings. beneath my skin.
forgive me then.
when i fail to respond to your touch of comfort.
when i blanket an open wound with “i’m fine.”
i do not know how to ask for help.
between veins and heartbeats.
inside of me is the only home my words will ever know.

my demons.

what is it that i have on you.
it makes you stay.
when i whisper no.
as you are about to leave.
i would like to fill myself to the brim with that ingredient.
for you have calmed the quarrels of my demons.
i heard them sigh with relief.
as you traced your steps back to me.
so what is it that i have on you.
i would like to possess just enough of it.
maybe then you will stay forever.
for even my demons have fallen in love with you.
so stay.
stay and be the well of remedy they always thirst for.
stay as long as you would like.
and then stay a bit longer.
because i meant to say i love you.
when i traced your name on the palm of your hand.
i meant to say i need you.
when i whispered no.