We were unwilling acquaintances
of separate worlds and separate minds
He, six foot tall and ready for revolution
I, five feet tall, with a dream.
Then, there was you
With your talk of change, transparency and a revolution we could all be part of
Camp to your politics of division and unity,
we were all called and all of us said yes,
all at the same time.
I still remember days of smouldering heat and burning grass as we lay on a ground we knew not to touch
They called us rebels. We called ourselves changers of a system we knew we could not change.
But then I slipped away amidst the haze as the screams got louder, the hate more bitter
I kept saying that wasn’t me. I did not want to become what you already were.
Perhaps, I already was.
Hypocrisy is a comical word. They all call you that
He, six foot tall and ready to defend you till the death of his own dignity
I, five feet tall, with an idea.
I told you long ago
That I had grown up
Altered for the better
Your hopes for sympathy
It was never love
A rocky distraction
Of youthful lust
And clandestine mistakes
I remember you
As I tell my story
To another one of you
Caught in a haze
Of blinding allure
Distracted as ever
I have not grown up at all (more…)
Because he loved me the least and he hurt me the most.
Because somewhere I got tired of still waters.
I fell for tsunami waves, crashing on my shore
destroying every little piece of me. I hated him in the beginning.
I hated him in the end, but somewhere in between
I fell in love with the idea that the roar in his waters was meant for me.
He screamed and cried, and I cried too. And somewhere there
I began to see the words and melody that formed on my lips. It was
magic. But the painful kind. (more…)
It was maybe a year ago when I promised you I’d write poetry for you and till this day, you have not given me a single moment that would usher rhythmic sweetness. You gave me only moments of supreme disappointment.
A thousand times, I’ve told myself that you were not worth the knife in my back. So I pretended I was happy for the people you now call strawberry.
I wonder how many were before me and how many will come after. I should fly away and forget your gold dust.
Your eyes say things your heart does not know and in your mouth, I see a smile so beautifully crooked that it is now lost as I whisper truth in your ears. There is a life you do not know and I am a song your strings and cymbals can never play.
Your green jacket and yellow monogram, your glasses and mustache, your cash and cards – even your strings and cymbals – say you love me. And I should hold on to you, they say. I should love you back.
But I know the dreams you have been having. I know your fears. I know your truth. (more…)