My memories are placed on a CD-ROM;
and they are slowly getting more out of date
and scratched up on the reflected emotions,
and I’m mad because all the ones of you are
beginning to skip, because of the one day I
decided to listen to scissors instead of you.
Here is a secret; I have talked to the world.
I’ve spoken to the clouds who drifted like the hitchhikers
you meet in dark, musty bars and they’ve told me the tales
of the mountaintops and the way they shifted, mimicking what
they observed below. They transformed from whales to see-saws
and when they formed into an old oak tree, I saw my life: stemming
and growing, blooming and learning, even during the winters when
my body is cold and my arms are empty.
I’ve whispered secrets to the oceans, and they swallowed them up
into their stomachs to ensure they were safe. The salt stung my
wounds, but I welcomed the pain with a sign of healing. I tried
to drown myself in that ocean, but it spit me up and
whispered back: “You need sadness for happiness to exist.
Coexistence is the only existence.”
I’ve exchanged memories with fireworks, and when I
was afraid of the gun shots in the sky, the colors cradled my
eyes and I felt the warmth under my skin. It took the
nights I spent crying and rocketed them in the air, exploding
into pinks and blues that I would later dream of, and my
happiness ricocheted off the sparks.
Everything in this world can speak, only if you are willing
to listen.
Tonight I chased phantoms,
ones that lived on the curb of the street
and grinned silently at my feet,
ones that sped so quickly over the hills
my body ached with pain, but thrills.
Rain cried onto my untouched skin
and my fingers gripped like they held my sins
and my blood ran with more beats than
your favorite rock song by a hit man.
Tonight I chased phantoms,
the ones that lived in the dark streets
and the ones that lived in the dark corners
of my mind.
Just keep talking, because I love listening
I want to hear your voice rise together with your chest
and tell me all the stories of you
and your memories
and your old best friends
so I can watch your eyes and how they glow
filled with promises of yesterday
just keep talking,
there’s a whole life I need to catch up on
before there was
me.
You never forget. That little memory, that little to-do list, is still in your mind. It’s just in hiding. That traumatizing event, and the happiest memories are still there, and they always will be. One day, there will be a scent, or a song, or a view, or a touch, and you will remember. You will remember something you thought was gone forever. It’s just hidden, but never forgotten.
Reckless Abandons 