Beneath the Mango Trees (broken love weeps)
Coconut daydreams and foreign cities can only soothe the wound for so long.
Time and space are good distractions from the pain that I feel throughout my body, coursing through my veins, up my spine, swelling in my throat and leaving me speechless.
Tears are sometimes the only words I have left when the world slows down around me. And I can feel them growing in the upper part of my chest, hugging my sternum with pleas to be released from the pressure of a breaking heart.
And it is breaking, more and more with every breath…
Silently behind scenes of motorcycles and airports…
Beneath Mango trees and Southeast Asian streets…
Not-so-softly beneath smiles and every meaningless flirtation with a stranger.
How do I let go of a love that still stands lovingly before me?
And willingly surrender it to the river of ideas that I cannot and will not follow?
How do I let go without losing it?
How do I keep it without losing my balance?
I don’t see a way without pain and empty spaces.
Without noxious hope filling my lungs
and burning my eyes
and charring the space I hold for love.
I have held demons and spiders and bloodied warriors.
I have given everything for less than nothing.
I have been a brace for the crumbling decay of other peoples skeletons.
And so I have learned to build walls to keep myself safe.
But this star walked through them.
Without swords or calloused grips.
Just light illuminating a room
through cracks and past life magic
A room built for darkness
and the survival of dreams
How do I fill the holes
Blanket the walls
and smother the light
without being left alone
blind and cold
And void of hope?
Perhaps I just say goodbye
one last time
gnawing at the bone until i’m free
to bleed out the love
and the grief
and the breathlessness
I never meant to let the light back in