tearing

it would be easier
to come apart
altogether

this constant tearing
i cannot stand

i miss you

you are caught
in my breathing
like absence

veil

i crop my hair short in an attempt to look like a man. i want to learn to think like a man, so that letting go is all about not hurting.
i try to get a fringe, in imitation of someone who I think is loved. but my fringe is all wrong and crooked. my hair is wiry and thick. not silky and supple
i will never be who i am not
i am not a man
i am not the girl with the beautiful fringe
i will have to be content with who i am
i am the one you detest

start again

we've stepped into a new year again, with you and i apart.

some days i pray for these tears to turn to dust. for dust to cover me, so that i can't see you and you can no more find me.

some days, all i want is to touch your face again. sometimes, every moment is about wanting to see your face.

Final scene

I always thought our exit would be as graceful
as the first scene
you set the stage
on a day the sun was warm
and the rain wanted to batter us down
just a little bit
you exit on your own again
leaving me to my
own denouement.

By the sludge

The river is a sludge where we stand.
We lean against each other near its banks.
When no cars pass, you place your palm on the small of my back.
I lean in to draw your breath into mine.
The lights flash again and we quickly come apart.

The story of our lives.

Moved away

The house is finally quiet today, with much of the moving done. Dust is beginning to settle on things again.
I miss the quiet of the greens and the sound of the birds and the dogs in the garden. There is no garden here. Only a small patch of lawn, where Chorri pees, because she needs the green as an inspiration to answer nature's call.
I hear the sound of Ring Road buses here and it makes me feel like I've come so far away from home.