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 sacrifice.

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 effort

Without fear

Without swords or calloused grips.

Without promises.

Just light illuminating a room

through cracks and past life magic

A room built for darkness

and resilience

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