Wilted Words

If you walk down a road everyday for a period of time, you will eventually memorize it. Or to more accurately, your body does. It is as if your body has developed a memory of its own, where it remembers the regular easy things you do. You can walk that road without focus and still not get lost. Your legs lead the way, knowing exactly how many steps to take. It's the same thing with braiding your hair, you do it by default, you don't think much about it while doing it. Your fingers twist your hair in a familiar way, knowing exactly what to do. It also occurs with many other things. You do them without concentrating, without your full attention, and as soon as your body learns something there is no undoing it. You can't un-teach your nose the smell of fresh roses or his perfume. You can't stop your mouth from humming that song you learned in third grade or his name. You fingers will always know how to knot a tie and how the spot in the between his shoulder blades fe...

I don't remember the day we first met in details, I just remember your polite calculated smile, your short nods, the rare  comments on subject you weren't interested in and the short forced compliments. I remember how off looking that scene was, you in a crowed, with people you claimed to be your friends and cigarettes you pretended to like smoking. Like rainbow in a night sky. Intriguing, but off. I introduced myself and was instantly hooked. I loved how much you knew about rain forests and what species are in threat of extinction. I got really interested in what you know about the stars and planets and other galaxies. We discussed NDE's and mental illness and bad poetry. I enjoyed talking to you about all the things that I didn't knew and I was amused by how much you knew about the world. And I thought to myself, here is someone who can teach something. And as intelligent and intellectual you were, there is one thing you didn't know about. The night I to...

Dear you, Sorry that it took me too long to write back, I have been trying to avoid this confrontation, but there is no point in doing that anymore. I didn't know how to start this, I already wrote a few letters and threw them all away. So I figured I'll just be spontaneous and write whatever comes to my mind. I want to tell you a few things that I am sure you know, even when you don't have anyone to remind you of them. First of all, you are loved by your family and friends and the universe, it doesn't matter if that one person you loved the most doesn't love you anymore, that lost love was once real, and that's more than many people ever had. Second, I want to tell you how strong and brave you are, I know that right now you are swirling in the quick sand of a transitional grey state. I know how hard it is for you. I know that you wake up every day hoping that this will be the last day in this maze, and you wake up the next day just as broken as you were the ...

My heart is fragile. It's a curse, to have a heart with chambers drenched in sympathy, Because my heart breaks a little every time I see someone begging for money, or an old man eating alone in a restaurant. It breaks when I see someone helplessly sick, when I see a kid left out. It breaks when I watch the news, when I think of wars, And when my friends get hurt from boys they love. But also it is a blessing, to have a heart so alive and tender, Because wherever I look, I see beauty, I see it in the creaks of walls, And corners of old streets. I see beauty in half moons and the bright sun. I see it when sheers of rain pour down from the sky and when the sky is clear as a blank page. I see it in random faces of people, I see it where no one bothers to even look. And then, I feel thankful for my heart. That I can love and give, That it's spontaneous and childlike. And I hope that I will have it forever, I hope the ugliness that passes by it won't blind it...

A cruel heart, Made of glass, Made of rock Made of anything but soft tissues. Torn apart, Made of shreds, Made of stones, A canvas of scars and issues. Dysfunctional, And crisp as a cold gust, There is no room in there for anyone, A dungeon so gruesome. There is only the maze, Of confused feeble walls, Where you got lost, And lost it all.