Curtains

So it was a simple late night burst of blood,

like a traumatic nosebleed.

Maybe I’ve been crooked with things lately,

you thought the same, too.

So I shrugged it off.

And then it happened again.

And again.

And again.

Something was wrong.

With me.

 

We almost always tend to deny thinking

about death

until it’s coming off in small strips,

in skinny bits

inside the layers of our skin

and we start to feel the small flame

called life fade into ashes left by

the burns of a chain smoker who

doesn’t know when to quit.

I won’t quit.

I don’t be like the one I was yesterday.

 

I’ve lost people.

I’ve lost friends, fake ones

and genuine ones.

I’ve lost things.

I’ve lost so much weight.

 

You’d think I haven’t been eating right,

but the doctor narrated a different story.

Every emotion turned into a poem,

for every feeling that I couldn’t get rid of,

feelings that stuck like an old gum in our

college desks –

those poems be never posted.

 

I’ve known this for so long now

and I’m still an utter mess.

These early twenties may cease like

an old dusted soul that has had enough of

everything but –

I’ve still got a few sparks left in me.

 

You are my little glimpse of sunlight

beneath this heavy sky full of rain.

I tilt the angles to see a glimpse

of your charm.

You even reflect the moonlight

and I write myself to sleep.

 

I don’t answer anymore

but neither does anyone listen anymore.

I am just trying to live my prayers.

I may be gone soon like the night star

leaving behind its lasting legacy.

 

The reds may continue to bleed a

little longer than usual but this body

is brittle enough to make copper sound like

titanium.

 

I’ll never be able to thank

a bunch of people, a handful.

I won’t create a scenery,

for I have no clarity to

how much longer I have.

Maybe I’ll stop writing some day,

about you,

about it all,

about everything.

Maybe you’ll forget about me – easily.

Maybe I’ll forget about me – slowly.

But I never forget about you.

Looking into the layers

surpassing the view inside this mirror,

I sign off.

 

Oh, by the way,

I have a little wink for you.  😉

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