Synonyms

-

I was a quiet child, but I had a beautiful singing voice,
Or so I believed.
My voice was soft, and my words were shy like a five years old kid hiding behind her mother and clutching her elbow at first day of school,
I couldn't hit high notes and my vocal range had limitations but that never stopped me,
At least I had rhythm and I memorised lyrics easily,
I grew up, and voice submerged beneath all the insecurities,
I am more quiet and I no longer believe that my voice is beautiful,
And my words,
My words almost never mean what I want to say,
They are deceiving,
Every time I speak they promise that this time they're going to come out exactly as I mean them but they don't,
They throw me under the big yellow bus,
They cluster in my throat and push other words out,
They ring the doorbell and run fast and I get caught,
They never call for truce,
So I decided to become silent,
I nod yes,
I shake my head no,
I say the bare minimum to communicate,
When the waiters ask me what I want I just point out what I am ordering on the menu,
I think I have lost my voice,
My words decided to punish me and now they no longer have meaning,
I try to console someone and what comes out of my mouth is a drip of illegible empathy,
I try to make people laugh but half way through my jokes the punch line is outdated,
I try to express to someone how much I love them,
But all I manage to say is 'I am sorry to bother you, I am sorry to burden you and wasting your time'
All I can do is formulate sentences, I knit them carefully but then I burn them down.

Sometimes I feel stupid,
Other times I feel helpless,
And that the things I want to say are just bullets lodged into my head,
I have paragraphs of things I want to say and they're flooding my brain,
I have hurricanes of vocabulary but all they do is mass destruction,
My words, they never mean what I want,

Maybe that's why the first guy who touched me did it, when he reached for the hem of my shirt he asked 'is this okay?' I said 'maybe' but what I meant was no,
He misinterpreted it into a 'yes'.

Maybe that's why when the first guy I loved cheated on me did it, when he told me he never loved me anymore,
I said 'I understand' when what I meant to say is ' I hope you never sleep soundly ever again'.

Maybe that's why when my mom asks me how can I be so cold and distant, all I say is ' that's who I am' when what I mean is that I have burned out and I am nothing but ashes now.

One day I'll have the courage to shout out what I say and not care about the collateral damage of the storm,
One day the practice of matching what I think of and what I say will pay off,
Until then, I'll keep humming the melodies I know.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

mirror

-
My thoughts are not holy, My body isn't a temple It's not a sacred space It's tender flesh and a fragile spine, It's nothing remotely divine, It's belimished skin and visible markings, I know there is solace in metaphors, in similes, in saying things not as they are but as what they're like,  in trying to compare what you can't understand to what you do, Maybe only then it will make sense, Trying to simplify it, pulling threads and tying ends and loosening knots, trying to make it look familiar, But it is almost never accurate, Words are just letters, More times than not they hold little to no significance. Little to no reassurance, little to no validation, Sorry , a half hearted apology Always met with sincere acceptance. 
Read more

The apartment

-
 When I think about my ideal house. I think wide balconies,  I think penthouse,  I think small yet not claustrophobia inducing.  I think roomy but not huge.  I think large but just enough to house two people and a pet, preferably a cat.  I think walls, muted yellow and forest green,  I think walls that you can pin me against and kiss me. I think walls, unlike the ones I keep around my heart, that aren't prone to crumbling at any hint of tenderness. I think walls I can hang up pictures of us. Crappy art I make and posters of your favorite things. I think of walls that have ears but never heard screaming or anger, I think of walls that have never witnessed disappointment.  I think of warm nights and cool breeze and long hugs and affection unaccounted for. 
Read more

The Quest.

-
I know regret when I see it, I spot it easily on your grey blotted aura. It glistens through your bloodshot eyes,  the windows of your soul, one glance is more than enough to recognize it. You have taken it upon yourself to seek redemption, From things you have no control over, but it never hurts to try. The sought after resurrection of what have been long dead will drain you, yet, you carry on, with a broken compass and a useless map, determined to revive what was once alive, reclaim what was once yours, But you can't seem to find it. That missi ng thing. You tell yourself that you've got nothing to lose and maybe Just maybe This time there will be a different outcome. A lie you cradle along with the truth. And when you go back to where you started, You swallow your pride and  disappointment, Like splinters of wood,  But your insides are lined with sandpaper, your spine is made of steel, and none of it longer fazes you.
Read more