owns the bodies of those who
go about the task of
carving a shelter on the
altar of desire and naked
affection. The kind that
grows like the night sky
claiming a territory
already weak at its knees.
Neither of us knew what lay
grunting in its keep. No promise
of earlier days could protect from
the falling away of
hands that swore to hold
everything, especially themselves.
We are only as brave
as the songs we play in loops,
as the stories we tell ourselves when
yearning for a different truth.
Everything is worthy of saving,
if we trust enough to try. We don’t
have to wait for a sign anymore.
Let’s save ourselves for now.
this is about us. the layers we come in. how after a couple months. depending on closeness or comfort. we shed. revealing skin. soft like cotton candy. skin. rough to touch. and as the days hum into months. we unravel. layer after layer. slowly. quickly. slow ly. then it stops. and we are down to slivers. it ends. and we are naked. so we begin a journey back to old places. picking up. and putting on. again and again. buckling and smoothening. only to take them off for someone new.
Perhaps this is why the world refuses to stand still.
Perhaps being in constant motion is the only thing
keeping us from being crushed
by the weight of everything we lose.
Perhaps this is why we mustn’t stop
even when everything hurts
even after the world around us has taken on new colour –
a shade darker that we have ever felt
Perhaps this is when we force our lungs
to hold more air, our hearts to carry
a little more tenderness. Perhaps
the only way we can survive
is by living right through it.