(no subject)

me
to: Nana Abu   
2:46 am                              VIEW DETAILS

I had forgotten what you sounded like
How you would enunciate your syllables and make each audience your own
I had forgotten your dry humor and your easy smile
And how the corners of your eyes would crinkle behind your frames when you laughed
I had forgotten how your eyebrows would upturn in concentration
And how your glasses would reflect your Uno cards
So you’d take them off, unless you wanted to see me win
You always did.

I never thought it would all come back through a YouTube video with 55 views
I never thought I would hold the feeling of your life again
But here we are.

I clutch onto these sixteen minutes and four seconds of conference footage
South Asian sustainable energy has never been so desolating
This staticky mic input is the last time I’ll ever hear you speak

My WiFi dies as abruptly as you did
This email is never sent, reminiscent of all those sentiments I left unsaid
Cruel, this déjà vu
The feeling of you rushed back
But you never do.

I love you.

Sent from my iPod
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Sick Oeuvre

“I’m still obsessed with his music if not him.”
“I still love his acting.”
“He still makes the biggest films.”
I ask myself, how does one separate the artist from the art?
It is an insult to those who pour their souls into their work.
What poor art it must be if it fails to reflect the artist in the slightest.
And what disgusting taste you must have to support an abuser’s

sultry pop,

heartfelt essays,

acting chops.

But then again,

you are what you eat.

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mutual stringing–along

associating with you feels as dangerous
as courting an affianced lover
only, we flaunt our secret in the open
perhaps in an effort to elicit envy from our future consorts

a delicate dance upon a bed of eggshells
we risk tripping on this slippery slope
of deliberate steps and calculated moves
you willfully exploit my camaraderie; i purposefully play along

you’ve been promised to someone else
and i’m betrothed to a new land
we’re both biding our time till we walk the aisle
but which one of us does that make a traitor of?

the difference between us, you must understand
is that you voiced your vows months ago
while i’ve grown accustomed to fleeing the altar
maybe if you had stayed, i could’ve taught you my ways

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[i don’t know what this is either]

Cremation

Like distilled water over copper crystals,
Your reveries were insoluble with reality
So I heated them and watched them vaporize
Let them crumble under my fingers
The cobalt faded to ash

I lowered you into the loam,
Swept fresh earth over your remains
And washed away all your dreams
It’s what the future you would have wanted
You’ve always loved the smell of damp soil, darling

From your disintegrating self
Rose four faded yellow dandelions
Caricatures of who you were
Reminders of the consequences
Of daydreams taken too seriously for far too long

Weeds disguised as wildflowers
Twisted marigold wannabes
Sunflower impersonators without direction
Love me, love me not
I plucked at the petals and let them fall to the ground

You’ve always been a stubborn one 
The stalks sprouted their seeds:
Resurrected maidens clad in white 
Globes of feathery apparitions
Mockingly swaying in the breeze 

I rooted them out, one by one
And blew at them for good luck 
The seeds found their wings 
Your fancies found flight 
The wind dispersed the echoes of my past for me

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He Said, She Said

He held her hand and stroked her arm
And promised they’d go where the faeries are
He tied her wrists, she called for help
He said that no one cared where she went

She protested; she was late for class

He gagged her and told her this was her fault
His stale breath stung her tender neck
He tore the china doll apart like a rag Continue reading “He Said, She Said”

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