i laid down on wet grass today

staring at the disappearing clouds

thinking about how you and i

have done something some lovers never could

they could’ve stayed as one, unbroken and forever

but never became themselves and healed

we talk about the rain

but never enough about the wet scars on the pavement

or the grass that end up soaking my jeans

we talked, over the phone at 3 am

choking up to the sounds of the rain to heal properly

but we never talked about how healing is painful too

it leaves behind a dampness

a soreness

not an urge to scream but a need to curl up and be still.

stilling the disquiet from times gone by

and finally, finally feel hurt

on behalf of an old self

younger and deader than myself

who never got around to feel for herself

to heal is to eulogise.

i lie down feeling tenderised like a piece of sirloin

With my hopes shattered, toying the illusions i coined

still i leak bloody tears but my soul feels light

untethered from the sinews of the past for the first time ever

you unweave the web of fibres

that were aged wounds

and those ghost like tendons snap to free me

if there’s any question left

there’s this: how do i remember someone

who freed me from my past

and disappeared from my future?

how do i remember wounds that healed

and scars that were never left behind?

when nothing ever happened and will never happen

whose words does the memory live in

who’s left to trust?