Poetry

My life is a play whose writer has forgotten their motivation. The lines of the script are blurred, somewhat resembling the bricks on the wall I sit beside now.

I write this now, in loving memory of a man who has not yet left us.

I missed my bus today. There I was at the stop, on main street; I had a croissant—chocolate—and I had my bag and I had a plan which consisted of getting on the bus, sitting down, and getting off at my stop.

The past

Full of mishaps

Full of mistakes

Full of mess ups

Full of errors

Contradictory

We should learn about

All the things we did wrong

So we can get better

But some people

there is a hand squeezing my heart

tight slow like it knows every part of me

holding on to the pieces i’m leaving behind

the empty rooms the silent voices the half spoken goodbyes

it does not let go

sometimes the dress feels like a soft breath

a quiet hope wrapped in fabric

that touches my skin like a secret i’m afraid to speak aloud

it’s the way light moves when i twirl

the way i feel seen without saying a word

the air tastes like honey and promise 

sticky with the scent of blooming jasmine 

and freshly cut grass that crunches beneath bare feet 

the sky drips blue 

stretching wider every afternoon 

she walks into the room like a sentence that forgot to whisper

light brown hair pulled back in a way that says she didn’t try

but still somehow gets it right

clear glasses catching the light

the lights hit first

hot and white and blinding

a wall of brightness straight into my eyes

so strong i can’t see their faces

just outlines

shadows beyond the edge of the stage

and somehow

it was my hoodie

old and wrinkled

stuffed in the back of my locker

half folded half forgotten

like most of my things

the halls grow quieter each day
pages of notebooks thin with time
final bells echo softer than the first
the clock moves forward
but i feel still for a moment
caught between what was
and what waits

Break down the border

and join by the hand.

You want to join us

and we understand.