hello, it’s me.
but what do you know what do you know about me.
more than the laughs we had and the inside jokes we made,
more than the nights till daylight, holding hands as people pass by,
more than the gazes that lasted, the winks we shared,
what do you know about me.
what do I do apart from those times,
when I crack apart, expose my fragility,
when a needle pierces through and the glass breaks through,
fragments suspended in time.
what do you know about me
when I’m dying, my mosaic pieces falling,
what do you know
when my smile seems forced my heart bleeding,
gushes of tears streaming down like waterfalls
choking the convoluted pipes of my lungs.
what do you know.
for you aren’t here when I cry,
when I break down, my arms fall off my eyes can’t blink my lungs can’t breathe
when my fingers control themselves and words plop out,
fall out of the black and white machine
into a havoc of mess,
into feelings I cannot describe,
sensations I cannot speak out
for I am too scared.
you don’t understand you won’t understand,
so what’s the point.
what’s the point of trying when you can’t see my tears,
you can’t see the inside,
you can’t know the real me.
am I a maze am I a machine
why am I so hard to decipher
am I code, am I ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics
why is it so hard to know me
why am I so secretive, why am I so discreet,
why am I so unwilling to reveal my vulnerability.
why can’t people just say when they crack down,
why put up with all the strength that gets so tiring.
what am I.
but is this problem mine or yours,
am I too hard to read or do we just not
are we too different or are you just too
but what is that to you.
what is “me”. a part of you? someone you know?
black hair black eyes laughs at weird jokes can’t manage her life can’t understand herself
reads books occasionally writes likes her tea without the sugar
likes the days without the blue sky
likes the days with the rain and the mellow dark green trees
the branches that sway
the clouds that speak poetry with rhymes to sway to
lyrics to breathe to.
what do you know about me.
my past my history
what made me who I am,
my confusing mother, my realistic father.
my parents who expect me to do more than I can ever do,
the screams that flooded not my household
but my brain,
my inner voice that haunts me
the dreaded future that follows me.
but do you know me.
do you know my need for art,
my need to create beauty to inspire to substantiate my visions.
do you know my need to breathe,
my need to listen closely, deeply to your heart beat
to the thunder strike to the lightening on the streets.
my urge to ink black onto blank my urge to drive at light speed
drive myself quick drive myself numb
until I can’t feel anymore until I don’t know anymore.
until you have faded from reality and so have I.
until I can run away
into the arms of a good book a good song a good mood
into the arms of an ideal you
so I can be done
done with all this.
but hello you say
and hello I say,
we exchange glances, the narrator says.
we walk, your arm slightly grazing mine,
your eyes slightly following mine
as we entangle in a waltz our limbs stuck again
in a jumble of mess,
a chaotic distress
and we are close.
we are close to locking together again,
restraining, restricting, giving ourselves freedom to chains
giving ourselves freedom to love, to insincerity, to insanity.
so I leave and say