You know when all your mistakes
Taste like the best choices?
They taste like coffee in the morning,
And some high spirit in the evening,
And they make you shiver,
And sweat,
And reconsider
All of your thoughts,
And wishes, and wants.
And you’ll lose all the plots
Just to have the chance
To choose again
The poorly poured wine
In the pursed lips
Of someone you loathe
As much as you loathe yourself.
Words have a different meaning now,
Since I changed latitudes and longitudes.
Things I used to read a different way,
Now they all sound like home,
And they taste like happy to me.
It was long before I got here, and maybe it took me some time,
But now I’m here.
And here we are, both in the same space, time and universe,
Enjoying the words that connect all that we were,
We are
And we will be.
It’s like saints and sinners in the same purgatory,
Except that this purgatory is filled with happiness and smiles,
And we’re all so grateful to be here together.
We all have hope in us, for us,
For the whole wide world that’s been so treacherous.
And at the end of the day, we’re in all this together,
And we’re on the same page of the same story,
On the same side of the history.
I’m part of you, you’re part of me.
There’s no place where I want to be.
Selfish is easy, easier than you might even think,
Smoking and drinking, aimlessly, carelessly,
And it always makes you think you’re on a brink
Of losing your head, your normalcy.
Repeat of repeats, binge living and watching,
Like being stuck on a carousel of feelings,
Where people keep on taking in the brainwashing.
We’re all just poor, trashy, weaklings.
For all the times when my body wasn’t mine,
Please remember
I was just a vessel,
A pathway to something better.
I had room to grow,
I was still this cookie dough
That legends talk about.
All I could do was
Resist and pout.
Now I’m not better,
And I’m not worse either.
I’m the same vessel,
With a little more stuff in me.
I still have room to grow,
And will probably do so
Until there’s no more room left.
Then this vessel won’t be as deft,
And things will spill,
And that’ll no longer be a skill.
Spillage becomes louder,
Spillage becomes death.
Spillage becomes chowder,
That’s when I’ll lose my breath.
And all of this time I’ve known about the brevity of life,
How special, tiny and scared we are,
How little we matter
In an ocean of feelings,
How big we are,
And how small are our healings.
I knew that you’re leaving,
And somehow it made sense.
But I am still dreaming
Of days that are less tense,
Of days when you’re here,
Your legacy unforgotten,
Of days when I’m happy,
And smiling more often.
All of the bangs I’ve had
They weren’t loud,
They weren’t tasty,
They weren’t mornings,
Nights and dreams,
They dissipated
Without disrupting,
They left a shadow
Without leaving marks,
They left a traces
Without leaving a scar.
All of the bangs
They didn’t give me power,
They didn’t give me pushes,
Love and gushes,
They gave me bitterness
And loneliness,
Without giving me a safe space.
They gave me wars
Without winning a battle,
They gave me sorrow
Without winning me a smile.
They gave me everything but me,
And everything but you.
I have a habit
where I love you so much,
I stare into your eyes
and they’re so deep,
and yet you never liked them,
and then I have another habit
of dreaming of you,
but loving me more,
and these two loves keep fighting each other,
and only one will win.