Spilled Ink

The Crater

For years I’ve been dancing around the crater of wound

Ignoring the hunger, the pleading, the blistering screams

Daring myself to laugh at soulless skins drowning inside the burning pit

Fucking idiots, I would say. I pitied the weak.

And then I slipped. My feet touched a corner oozing with pus and I screamed his name.

The memory burrowed out of the marrow of my bones. A dimpled chin. A tuft of black hair, darker than a cloak of nightmare. Shots of laughter bottled inside the core of the sun. Stolen kisses on the cream sofa. Long and infinite warm hugs. Caramel stuffed clog porcelains. Hot chocolate flavored tea on silver tray. Homemade guacamole. Fingers licking pungent pumpkin curry. Purple checked shirts. Accent tags. Eyes like pools of amber nectar. Heart that reached out and dutifully mends.

Like a little goldfish, I’m breathless in the palm of his hands.

Put me in the crater, dear. I promise I won’t climb out again.

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Mi Vida

I told everyone that I moved on

that I don’t remember you at all

but the forgotten twilight came every night

when my restless fingers would wake up

and search for a tiny secret place –

the pillowcase, the right side of the cold duvet, the dusty wooden head of my creaky bed

and dance to a tune I want to forget

circling and tracing the little crooked alphabets

that used to be my home

like a needle piercing a breathing canvas

it carved my fear

into my brittle bones.

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Mi Vida

The Cure

I love him and that’s the end of discussion.

It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t know about this or he is in love with another person or he’s perfectly happy the way he is.

God knew and that’s enough.

I of all people knew immediately that this would be trouble. It would not get me far. I will end up more stupid than before. I tried different remedies. I want to erase the memories I had though they are the best ones I had in years. I asked for help from other people. People who promised me that they can keep this memories away, suppressed, drowned, buried, beaten and of course, dead. I tried avoiding. I tried forgetting. I tried keeping busy. I tried everything but I end up worse than when I started.

I wish I knew the cure of missing him.

Why would you want to forget? Just let him live inside your heart and let love flourish!

No. You have no idea what Hope did. I can’t live with Hope. It’s too painful, having false hopes. I believe that I should kill Hope with no mercy. Don’t let it grow. Poison it, strangle it and rip it apart. Find its root and pull it.

Let it bleed. Let it die.

Maybe then I would forget. Maybe then I would be happy.

No. Killing Hope was not the cure but it’s the best that I can come up with.

I am broken and the cracks will not heal.

Anyone told you that he is the cure of his own illness?

I knew that.

Why didn’t you go and ask him for the cure?

No. I’d never do such a ridiculous thing.

Why?

Because then I would Hope and that would be the most terrible thing I did to myself.

Then what do you expect? Whatever you do is not working.

Maybe I like suffering. Maybe I like dying slowly. I will get use to this. It’s not a big deal.

You like crying yourself to sleep?

No. But if I had to do it in order to sleep, then I’ll do it. Beats asking for the cure from the man himself.

Why won’t you tell him that you love him?

Because that would start another series of trouble. I am fine the way I am. He is far away from me and he doesn’t know about this. He’s happy, and that’s more important.

More important than your happiness?

Yes. Maybe I’ll find the cure later but for now I am content that he’s happy.

What if he’s not happy?

What do you mean he’s not happy? He has everything a man needs and a woman wants! He’s supposed to be happy! It’s impossible that he is not!

What if you are the reason that he’s happy? Now that you’re so faraway he is looking for his cure of your longing…

No, that can’t be true.

How can you know? You don’t want to understand him.

He deserves so much better. He deserves a better lady, intelligent, well mannered, beautiful, funny, gentle, caring. He doesn’t deserve me…or it’s me that don’t deserve him!

Who are you to tell him that he doesn’t deserve you? You don’t write his Fate! You don’t decide what’s in his heart! The heart sees what the eyes don’t.

Well I don’t want him to see me. Let it end here with me alone. Let me die without the cure. Let there be peace upon my soul.

There would not be peace. You are the cure of his longing and his is yours. The story has a happy ending, if only you believe.

I don’t deserve a happy ending…

Then him? If you want his to be a happy one, go to him. Give him his cure and he will give you yours.

What if I am not his happy ending? What if I am not his cure?

Well you don’t decide that. Go and see if there is light in his eyes. If you are not his then at least you are at peace with yourself. Pray that he would find his cure, the light in his eyes and be merry. In turn you might meet another that will love you as much as you love him. We can never decide the end. We are weak beings.

But I am scared. I am too weak.

Then go before it’s too late.

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