Tag Archives: spoken word

to burn or be burned.

it is hard to love when you have learnt so well how to be alone.

how do you forget everything for someone new?

how do you breathe when you are next to somebody new?

does your heartbeat mimic theirs?

your breathing heavier when theirs is laboured?

or can you hold your own?

do you wait for them to speak?

or do you fill their mouth with your words

your thoughts

your feelings

you, you, you?

how do you feel when they are with another?

are you jealous? do you care?

do you acknowledge your feelings?

or do you let them sit,

burying them beneath your blood cells,

hoping they’ll slip away down your bloodstream,

like a match into water?

 

tell me.

do you want for another?

a lover?

do you find comfort in your own silence,

in your solitude

or do you feel desperate to break the quiet?

do you fill the room with empty words

or do they mean something

to you

or to anyone else?

are you careful

or are you nervous?

are you considerate?

or just shy?

do you love?

or is it simply obsession?

just another well written lie?

 

do you remember waiting 12 hours to kiss him because your hands couldn’t stop shaking?

or do you feign confidence,

blame it on vodka,

caffeine withdrawal,

or just anything but the truth?

do you associate love with heartbreak?

with pain,

or happiness?

long days spent together

or sleepless nights apart?

do you know how it feels to breathe in so deeply,

gasping for air,

and to breathe out a lover’s name,

without knowing why?

do you shield your face from the fire,

or do you embrace the flames with arms wide open?

 

 

is touching the sky holy or a whole damn shame?

the birds are flying high this season.

i say, let them, let them.

maybe they tremble at night and struggle to fly at the best of times, like the rest of us.

or maybe they lead by example.

maybe the one leading the flock almost touching the sun

is the one that feels the lowest inside

their beak overflowing with dirt, earth, leaves, suffocating

smothering them from their insides

out

even though they’re touching the sky.

maybe, maybe.

life can be funny sometimes.

the birds are flying high this season.

i say, let them. let them.

i saw a kid attack a flock of pigeons today.

he kicked at them, tried to squash one in his fat hands.

the bird was squirming away, screeching, feathers everywhere.

the kid straining against it, his tongue poking through his lips and teeth

like a worm wiggling through an open beak.

the kid’s mother called his name and he left those poor birds alone.

the feathers blew gently in the wind.

i don’t know what happened to the bird.

but the birds are flying high this season.

i say, let them, let them.

maybe they’ll come back.