Lullabies (7 page)

for a time

I wasn’t I.

There was a man

who came and went,

on him every breath

was spent.

I’m sorry I forgot

all else
—

it was the most

I ever felt.

History

In the beginning, I wrote to you and you wrote back. For the first time, I had something worth writing about.

Then somewhere during our correspondence, I deviated
—
and instead of writing to you, I began writing for you. There was so much to say, things I couldn’t tell you and I sensed it was important to put them down somewhere. For inherently, mankind is compelled to record their greatest moments in history and you were mine.

I don’t write to you anymore. Nor do I write for you. But I do write
—
and every word still aches for you.

The Dream

I saw a dream

long lost to me,

in search of

another’s waking.

It found a shoreline

far away

as the day
—

as my heart,

was breaking.

And I sighed and wept

for what could not be
—

and for all that could

have been,

For every hope

and every prayer

long drowned

beneath the sea.

I fell to sleep

alone that night,

to the sound

of a distant call.

The faintest whisper

of good-bye
—

and the dream

was mine, no more.

Wishing Stars

I still search

for you in crowds,

in empty fields

and soaring clouds.

In city lights

and passing cars,

on winding roads

and wishing stars.

I wonder where

you could be now,

for years I’ve not said

your name out loud.

And longer since

I called you mine
—

time has passed

for you and I.

Yet I have learned

to live without,

I do not mind
—

I still love you anyhow.

Forever for Now

Stretching out from here to then,

days before us,

came and went.

Someday we will meet again,

for now the end
—

of days on end.

Nostalgia for Today

Do you remember what you once said to me?

One day you will be nostalgic for today.

At the time, I couldn’t begin to conceive a future without you
—
I believed with all my heart we were destined for each other. And in the back of my mind, I always knew I’d feel nostalgic for a moment we shared or a memory we created
—
but not once, not even for a second
—
did I imagine it was you I would be nostalgic for.

Poker Face

There was a time I would tell you,

of all that ached inside;

the things I held so sacred,

to all the world I’d hide.

But they became your weapons,

and slowly I have learnt,

the less that is said, the better
—

the lesser I’ll be hurt.

Of all you’ve used against me,

the worst has been my words.

There are things I’ll never tell you,

and it is sad to think it so;

the more you come to know me
—

the less of me you’ll know.

Crosswords

I write to bring you closer. To imagine your fingers trailing the curve of my spine. To recall how the span of your hands were exactly the width of my hips. And how our bodies would fall into each other like words on a crossword puzzle. I write for the raw ache in my bones when the ink seeps into paper
—
for the bittersweet sorrow that comes from bringing you back.

Forget Me Not

The choice was once

your choosing,

before losing

became my loss.

I was there in

your forgetting
—

until I was forgot.

Melancholy Skies

Three summers passed

of sun-drenched dreams,

of snow white clouds

and you and me.

The warmth of love,

all summer long,

through winter’s chill

we’d carry on.

Each season’s end

began anew,

until the last
—

I shared with you.

They gave us years,

though many ago;

the spring cries tears
—

the winter, snow.

The Poet

Why do you write?
he asked.

So I can take my love for you and give it to the world, I reply.

Because you won’t take it from me.

Almost

Do you see

how I love him true
—

it could have been you.

As for you

and your love for she
—

it could have been me.

But we were a maybe,

and never a must
—

when it should have been us.

He’s Forgotten

Time is to wound

like wound is to suture,

when she was his past

and he is her future.

Perfect

He said to me “You’re perfect,

and I want you to be mine.”

But I felt I wasn’t worthy

and to be perfect, I’ll need time.

I knew it would be worth it,

I could be better if I tried,

then he got tired of waiting
—

and I watched my chance go by.

Minefield

If you know a boy with eyes of quiet wonderment, who smiles often and speaks rarely
—
someone who pays the same respect to words as he would a minefield
—
who thinks deeply and is endearingly sad
—
please do not give your heart to him. Even when he gently pleads with you
—
or clutches your hand with grave earnest
—
no matter how he tries to convince you, please turn him away. You don’t know him like I know him. You can’t love him like I do.

A Sad Farewell

For all the time I’ve known you,

to the present
—
now our past;

I know never to forget you;

though regret still pains my heart.

Had I known, I would not have left you,

alone beneath those stars,

on the night when I last saw you,

not knowing it was the last.

Regrets

Timing is irrelevant when two people are meant for each other.
It’s what I once believed.

But we met during a time when I was such a mess, when I still had so much to figure out. How could I have known how crucial every word, every action was or how losing you would be something I would always regret?

If only you could have met me now, how different it would be. How much I have changed. How I have grown. I learned so much from all the mistakes I made with you. I just wish I had made them with someone else.

Ode to Sorrow

Her eyes, a closed book,

her heart, a locked door;

she writes melancholy

like she’s lived it before.

She once loved in a way,

you could not understand;

he left her in pieces

and a pen in her hand.

The ode to her sorrow