Remain

Remain

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Tounge-tied

Sometimes,
words I should be telling you
are suspended
at the tip of my tongue

So when you ask me
“what’s wrong?”
I can only make out
the easy
“nothing”

And the words
you didn’t hear
died in my lips
and aged with time

I have grown a forest
out of the things
I didn’t tell
and if you listen well
you’ll hear the rain
came from the
questions you never ask
and the weight
drags on every day
that you’ll find my smile
prepared to break
set to die

You see,
when words left
Silence knocked
and asked me
to pack my bags
and let go

but you said
“stay”
and
“please, let’s fix this”
and
“listen to me”

I knew I have to throw this away
I should let go
I knew I have to leave
but
Sometimes,
words
I should be telling you
are suspended
at the tip of
my tongue

Fever

The fever paces the streets,
blinding the corridors in its nocturnal sadness
looking for eyes wandering, lost,
still and burdened
in its own color

The wind plays with the cold
for months even in the warm seasons.

A body crosses the bridge
still wearing his mustache,
tangled with ice

His eyes, a black hole;
his lips, the shredding of a self
He’s suddenly whole, then suddenly empty

the fever builds a house out of a man
stores in it jars and jars of isolation,
rusty toolboxes,
dust heap of journals,
of photographs, letters unread

the floor is soiled and dirty
the walls stand in exhaustion
at night, he dances with the doom and torment,
with brooms and sticks and unusual

Distress plays a music ethereal in his ears
the fever took over
the bedposts, the pillows, the blanket,
and the darkness has a bright color
the cellular rings and rings until it stopped

The man is helled to bed and sorry
until he is no more
Until he is nothing
The fever finished the house
Steps into the chair like a master
Harried the depths of his heart
and found nothing
Soundlessly, the man hangs himself in the ceiling
And the deads sound the bells of forlorn

The fever smiles
and parades the street looking for sad eyes to feed.

In Extremis

I’d leave my corpse in your hands and my name on your skin,
so you’ll never forget that I’d live there

I’ll house you in a graveyard and
bury you like roots and coffins,
for you to feel how it’s like to be left alone

With frost and rain, I want to efface your memory
and I’ll teach you my name
it will be the only words your lips will kiss,
the only tale you’ll tell

I hope you fall like rain,
forced in its downfall,
lonely and shapeless
with nowhere to go,
nothing to do,
but fall

Because when you leave, you used the windows and
leave winter to sleep in my bed
and now sunlight is a stranger touching my skin
my body is a map of your lost expeditions
but I’m the only one presumed lost and
you, the only surviving member

Now I dream, cloth with the memory of your face
enduring what remains of my withering self