Stay Still

When in pain, some people are told
To run away and seek refuge
In foreign places, with foreign people
In a supposed search for their soul
As if pain strips us of our humanity
That you’d have to avoid it at all costs
As if pain detaches the soul from its earthly vessel
That you’d have to find it elsewhere
But what if while you’re sent away
Bathing in pain while skipping stones
Or climbing mountains, or skydiving
What if he comes knocking back
On your door step
With hand-picked flowers
And the familiar smell of cigarette smoke
Cloathing his bruised knuckles you used to lovingly hold
But no one is inside to answer
Because you were out there
Thinking that happiness is attached to places
Not to the people who make them happen
Thinking that loneliness is found in between pauses
Of breathing, and of conversations
Of those nasty distractions
You call moving on
What if you owned the pain and stayed still instead?

Swing, Swing

Playing tennis and moving on are one and the same
Tighten your grip
And you lose control
Swing blindly
And you miss your chance
At returning the shot
So you stand up
Own your position
Take a swing backwards
And launch the ricocheting orb
Back to where it came from
Crossing your fingers, albeit hoping
That it doesn’t return
You won’t be mistaken
You’ll know if you’ve done it right
The stance feels right
The contact feels right
Hell, even the popping sound feels right
Still, if you don’t
You’re in luck
Tennis is a repetition
All those mishaps
All those missed shots
All those sore muscles
Prepare you for your next big hit
Just don’t stop playing

Tipping Point

She said didn’t love him
But when he spoke with her
It felt as if someone were reaching out
Asking her to hang on a little longer
To close her eyes and trust the universe
That her scattered bits and pieces
Are right where they are
At this point in time
She said didn’t love him
But when he opened up
It felt as if she were navigating
Through an uncharted territory
In pitch darkness, sans all fears
Cloaked in juvenile wisdom
Dauntless and yielding to the unknown
She said she didn’t love him
But she did

Inner Monologue

Maybe it’s my fault
For not saying anything
For not showing any depth
By only allowing happiness
To reverberate on the surface
But would you still
Blame me
If I told you that it’s difficult
To trust anyone, everybody
With the burden of
My damned introspection
Just this once
Please let my silence
Speak for me