A Garden of Jade Flowers

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Photo by Henry Be via Unsplash

 

It’s written in the clouds
Carried by the arms of the people you love
And who loves you back
for someone who doesn’t believe in heaven
I’d like to believe you’re in the sky
Blissful as the memories we kept

It’s an ineffable turn of events
I saw you not too long ago
But even with such a few inches of space
It felt like you were years away
In our last few moments
All I said was hello
And you said my name
Exchanging smiles
Thinking I’d see you again

Few days, few weeks
And even a few years
Our last conversation was
A recollection of our lives
Since we last saw each other
Simple small talk between old friends

I still have the photographs of you
In our red and gray skirts
Smiling not knowing as days end
We would slowly drift apart
Becoming a familiar face
A “Who’s that” in a series of albums

Perhaps we’d reconnect
Have a coffee conversation
But all I can do now
Is stare at the sky
Thinking maybe heaven can exist
In the memories that I missed

Wandering Bar Lovers

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Photo by Jan Phoenix on Unsplash

 

I don’t know where you’re going
and I have no idea where I’m heading
might as well try to find a path together
While I spill the last drop of whiskey
I’m half way drunk but still sober enough
These rocky starts and winding roads
are hard for someone who can’t walk straight
my vision is kinda hazy for me to see the way
My words are slurred but my thoughts are coherent
With my common sense still on the tracks
even without a bottle I don’t trust my instincts
you’re probably lost and asking for directions
While I’m trapped in empty glasses and conversations
Waiting for morning to shake me
You’re patient and attached
And I cling unto you
Hoping you won’t walk into a fantasy

Goodbye Alice (Sad Truth of Us)

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Photo by Tiko Giorgadze on Unsplash

we have an inevitable expiration date
at some point in our lives
we would part, the cause still unknown
there will come a day
where one of us has a piece of the other
sadly, one bigger than the other
it hurts knowing this fate
that we would only be memories
tucked into our subconscious
We will only be an anecdote
Part of small talk, chit-chat
and mentioned in conversations
The next few days, months
(hopefully years)
Would become recollections
We would be reminiscences of our youth
It pains me knowing that
we may never grow old together
we may never have our wedding dance
Or come home to our marital bed
They would turn into fantasies
Hypothetical situations, unimaginable scenarios
An imaginary world we built for ourselves
Hanging in disbelief of this uncertain expectation
Of this closing chapter
And that is the sad truth of us

Pieces of Peace: Midnight ramblings for a soulmate

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Photo by Alex Robert via Unsplash

 

Is there such a thing as soulmates in the romantic sense of the term? I once thought a past love of mine was my soulmate. Though my evidence was shallow and my reasons could be pure coincidences and not handed out by fate. Now, 12:20 a.m on the clock I stay up wondering if you are my soulmate. Could you be the one I would spend the rest of my life with? Or are you another person to fill the time until the universe hands me my actual soulmate?

But there is no doubt in my mind that I love you. I love you so much, in fact, I feel guilty for harmless fantasies. I sound a little crazy, it could be the alcohol talking or my drowsiness catching up with my train of thought.  But I do love you that even in my imagination I could not want to hurt you.

Falling Apart and Burning

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I am sitting in a burning room and all I can say is that I am fine. By the next few minutes, I would be buried with my ruins of my sanity. I am watching flames dance until everything becomes ashes along with my desire to live. Turned off my phone, my Wifi, and social life.  I do not need a public confession of what is spinning in my head. Even loneliness left me by midnight.

Pieces of Peace: My Anxiety is not Romantic

 

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My anxiety is not romantic. My anxiety is not a fetish you can bring into the bedroom.  Someone told you that someone with anxiety is a great lover.  You believe because of my constant need of validation that everything will be okay; I will pour my energy into our relationship.  You are sadly mistaken because I have no energy left to give.

It is not cute when I wake up in the morning. My alarm goes off and I hit snooze. What I do is this; I lay there on the bed feeling this heavy weight on my body.  I try to find the reason why until I’ve come up with a dozen conclusions on why I should get up. But instead, I lay there for an extra ten minutes because I am exhausted.

There are days I jolt up and my heart is racing. I have been thinking about the same problem from the night before and I hate myself that I haven’t found a solution. And even if I did, I probably woke up thinking my solution would just add to the problem. There are days I wake up crying because I have no idea what to do.

There are days I’d wake up three in the morning thinking about the context of a day old conversation.  Or worry about how I may not have enough money in my account until my head conjures up worse case scenarios. Until I’d start to sweat, my stomach churning, and my heart trying to beat out of my chest. There are nights I feel like the Tell Tale Heart because I hear a heartbeat in the room deafening me.

Though I should’ve just went back to sleep rather than keep myself up all night.  If I try to fall asleep all I do is fidget, toss, and turn. I’d think about every problem in my life, from point A to point Z. Only to find it coming back to me.  If it wasn’t for me I wouldn’t have anxiety. Yes, I know it does not make any sense.

Will you still find my anxiety cute when I get an anxiety attack? It feels like I’m choking on air, my heart is trying to beat out of my chest, and everything is hazy. Would you still find it cute when I walk through a crowd trying to steady my breathing? Or would you feel like you are saving me? It would be nice to have a shoulder to lean on. Someone to talk to about my frequent bursts of irrationality rather than hide it and pretend I am okay.

Darling, I need a friend, not a knight or a soldier. Better yet tell me that I should seek help. I do not want you to say that you want to fix me because I am not broken. I am sick, not a jigsaw puzzle.

So please, my anxiety is not a character trait. It is an illness. I need a doctor, not a lover. I am not broken.

ironic inspiration

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Thank you for the love
Unconditional
I am blessed
But you have damned my poetry
With every touch
I hear angels
With every written line
The devil would detest
Hell bent on ruins
Of my pathetic verses
Interrupting my flow
It’s love, for all they know
Passion and angst
Replaced with a metaphor
Stripping my enthusiasm
In between the sheets
My voice lost in a room
Papers scattered on the floor
You turned my writing
Into a garden
My words as seeds
My lyrics do not nurture
But with you
Here’s a flower