Dating : Poems That Feel Like Something

Like the storm that fades in the night,

like the sound of a swaying noren

against the sound of a crying heart,

there is nothing more to be said to a sound

that wanes when the wind blows and

when the wind blows, it takes you somewhere

it takes me somewhere far, like the feeling

of vodka dripping down my lips as I tell you

how much I loved you,

of how much I love you,

of how much the past doesn’t run to the future

but keeps you in my mind, like the still image

of something that once reminded me of love

and how beautiful it had been when it was in my hand

and like change there is something to be said when

I wake up,

and think of you in my faded blue shirt,

with its faded buttons, and I had cried,

laughed,

smiled,

time had stopped

and we had shared love as though it meant the world to us

and although this poem may go on without an end

or a period, I fear that my darling, it is here, the period of a story

that could’ve lasted a lifetime,

of a story that may still last a lifetime

The lights blurred down to crystals when I stared at the puddle beneath my white sneakers,

and the sound of a burning couch as I heard the distant sound of you crying against my breast,

and it was the song of heartbreak because I decided to burn you, because it would be easier than

face that freckled face of yours with moles like constellations that I have loved instantly, constantly,

and it’s like the feeling of bugs being killed by pesticides because the tremors that one feels when

a heart breaks is like hearing all the awful sounds of the world, a thousand dying birds enter your paradise,

a paradise I built for myself, a paradise that somehow allowed you to be a part of it, and you took the fridge,

the armchair, the bed, the TV, and you had moved in without me realizing so when I was walking back home,

I was surprised to see you sitting on the edge of the couch asking where I had been your whole life but how is it that

you had actually found me in my little room where I always kept my sweetest secrets behind a locked safe

and somehow you had the key when I was sure I lost it.

I cut my hair shorter

and I have a job now,

I wake up at 7am everyday

and I’ve stopped crying in the morning,

and I’ve been going to bed early,

and I’ve learnt to cook fried rice,

and it’s funny because all you do

is fry rice until it’s a little burnt,

and it’s funny because when it burns,

the sizzles pulse through me and I’m alone,

and there’s this silent pause,

a long minute within one second,

and I cock my head to the side as

I’m reminded of lavender flowers

dancing above me,

and I remember your name

prancing on the tips of my lips

singing love over and over,

but now the fried rice is too burnt,

black like oil in the ocean and again,

I am reminded of blue eyes fading

under the vast green sea, and

I’d like to see you,

because in whatever I do,

I seem to miss the way you call

my name when it rains.

The guitar wakes up in the morning,

and my hands are right above your chest

then the birds begin to sing and the rocks

start to talk, and then laughter,

how odd, yet so comforting as you hold me

against your old school bed your mom bought

with its checkered patterns swimming

across our thighs and our lips and our hearts

crossing through all the rivers, saying

here I am, here I am,

as we find each other in the middle of a twisted

net of oceans and coconuts, an oasis of bees

who ate fish and feathers like pelicans,

ah —

what an odd place my heart is

and how wonderful because,

you’re here too.