are you driving the knife deeper,
My heart is already bleeding.
Can I have the secret lock, please
To rewind the clock
To the days when you would love me
with every passing line,
You would hang on to every word I said
and smile with twinkling glee
when I walked around the room
weaving dream after dream.
Now that the minutes have rushed by
and days have all but gone,
you rather not even whisper
the answers to my heart.
The messages become shorter
just a word or two at most,
because the girl that made you happy
can never be replaced with my drones
You watch as I scramble
so hard to make you mine
and I watch as you smirk
Because I’ll never even survive –
in your world, it’s all complete
you don’t need another person
to fill up the noise,
Because once you found her,
But never will I,
I am a wanderer. All my life I have been looking; searching for a face, a place, a feeling to call my ‘home’. It has been exhausting really – always thinking ‘ah, here is my stop’ only to be given an eviction notice.
All this searching; but never a permanent home. I think I was only looking to ‘belong’. Belong to you, to him, to whom?
It has been a while since I realised ‘home’ is not a place. A place is a house. Home is not a thing. A thing is just that, a thing. Home is a person, a feeling of your very own security blanket that doesn’t wear off with time.
All this searching and what? I have built my home with the foundation of your love. But your love is temporary. I pack my bags and go. I stop and build again, but this time I am kicked out. I don’t give up, I am building; again, and again, and again. But there is always a big bad wolf huffing and puffing my ‘home’ down.
The big bad wolf is reality. I build my ‘home’ on those who already have a home. So really, what I have been building all along are cotton candy houses. You eat it up, when I am no longer your muse.
What do I do now? Keep looking or put up a tepe? I could be a warrior princess of my own story.
Maybe not all of us are meant to find a permanent home.
I am glad you’ve found yours.
And then she said to him,
“Don’t love me.
Don’t love me for what you fell in love with.
because she has danced her way out of my life.
She has dived into the ocean and sprung herself to the horizon. Climbed the tallest tree and become one with the sky.
She has taken flight.”
“Love me,” she said,
“For the imperfection that I am.
laughs that turn into anger,
smiles that turn into tears.
The discomfort I feel of myself.
For the pent up emotions –
a jumble of feelings.
For the endless thoughts
that run in my head.
For the way that I am.
I might not be this tomorrow,
day after, tonight.
But love me enough to follow me
with the changes, and dreams, and fears.
And maybe, just maybe
you’ll find me good enough
to trust me with your heart.
Right now though,
you don’t love me. You love who I was.
But I am not that person anymore.”