“
My favorite key is the one that deletes.”
-Elena Ferrante
The Neapolitan Novels
Tag: heartbreak
oops
turned a man
into a tangent
may be
maybe too soon to understand
maybe each used the other as a means to our own misguidance
maybe we weren’t ready for It
maybe I like to make messes just to wipe circles
maybe it’s impossible to look back in a curl
to name the before
could have sworn we felt it without words
maybe we’ll recollect these scattered selves
restrengthen the illusion we’re becoming ends in and of ourselves
find that place there’s nowhere else to go
for now I’ll just keep going and going
maybe I think what may be too much
certainly we’ll never know
⇠
never been left with tact
carried on a continuum of
“she’s beautiful, but…”
missed the point
trying to hold a line
Deforestation
“
Nothing in all the world is quite so lonely as a lover who wants to love but loses his beloved in a jungle the two of them helped one another create, plant by tree by vine. Nothing in all the world is so pathetic as a lover who thinks he wants to stand but always finds himself lying down, thinks he wants to speak but constantly falls silent. Nothing in all the world is so helpless as a lover lost in a jungle he has helped to make and cannot find even the edge of.
There is no escaping, either for the lover or for his beloved, when the vines have closed off the sun, when the trees have closed off the wind, when the plants have grown into a thick wall that no foot was ever meant to penetrate. Escape is never a possibility, anyway. The only possibility is demolition — either the jungle or themselves. They must choose. No one else can choose for them, and they cannot escape the choice. It is their choice. They will live with it forever.”
-Burton Raffel
Lovers Losing Lovers
( )
Sometimes old Spotify playlists do it. Replay stories, queue my mind through a loop. We had a time, I wish we could stay in. Shuffle. Breathe in the cold black space with the glistening edges. Shuffle. Every little lie in this world comes from dividing. Say you’re my lover. Say you’re my homie. Tilt my chin back, slit my throat, take a bath in my blood, get to know me. Shuffle. En tus ojos me desvelo y tus labios me buscan en la oscuridad como relaciones de la noche. Shuffle. These songs make me want to reach for you. Pause. Strangers’ smiles remind me: I used to push and pull, but I can be still. Self-induced lovelessness doesn’t last forever. Neither do rings on fingers or ink on paper. We can recreate how we relate. The simplicity of a daily choice. You’ve got it for one day, man. I used to search for the letters of his name, wait for his footsteps, buy time with food and wine, come and go as he pleased, but now we’re free from that parentheses.
Lost
“
It is far easier to talk about loss than it is to talk about love. It is easier to articulate the pain of love’s absence than to describe its presence and meaning in our lives.”
-bell hooks
All About Love
your name here
the letters of
your name
write my spine
and rearrange reality
the first
and
the last
not
the first
or
the last
laid together
side by side;
I shiver.
spell it to me
one more time
as if I don’t
know your lines
behind closed eyes
curves and shapes
bend til they break