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.
There’s nothing more you love than dreaming wide awake,
It’s like a whole galaxy hides in your eyes,
And whenever you blink a new one gets born.
The fire in you is warm and peaceful,
Like your arms are home, and your heart is not deceitful,
And you taste like coffee in the evening,
And smell like love in the morning,
And isn’t that exquisite?
As if you’ve planted your courage in me and gave me wings,
And now everything tastes like summer and feels like swings.
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 it took me ages to get home,
In a city I would’ve never thought I’d call home.
This is where magic happens,
Where I’m equally invisible and very observable,
Where you could walk without getting anywhere,
Where you could go without getting somewhere,
But where places are home everywhere.
You can walk on the Southbank,
Imagining how it feels to swim down the river,
Or you could go south the Thames, where all the fancy people live.
You can walk through Camden
And taste the wild side,
Or go to the museums and galleries,
And find that life is on the palm of your hand,
Listening to you, feeding you, tasting you…
I know I’m home now; I’ve stopped missing myself.
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.