uitwaaien

(v) to take a break, to clear one's head; "to walk in the wind."

Category: poetry

Summer Poetry

I’ve always had summers that were made out of poetry.

the ones when I was a little girl and he was a little boy

and we would tackle each other in video games

and hide under the covers when it was over.

the ones when we grew up and I fell in love.

the ones when we grew up

and we grew apart.

there were summers that went by like my alarm clock.

the ones where I was peaceful in pure bliss because I felt like I was dreaming.

the summers that ticked tocked fast

and when the time was up

a continuous buzzing would come off

and those summers would be over.

it always happened,

but I always hoped the summer magic didn’t have to be over too.

there were summers when I was an exotic pink flower

and all the bees would flock towards me because they wanted to be my friend.

I guess those friends left when the pollination was over

but that’s okay.

I wasn’t the only exotic flower in the field anyway.

 

despite the happiness, love, magic, and heartbreak

I experienced a different kind of poem with you.

it was the kind where we spent late nights in a cozy coffee shop

and it was there where I got to see more clearly the word “art” in this place earth when I was having deep conversations with you.

it was the kind where we could find small corners

in a busy, stress-filled place

to spread our legs out

and rest our heads down on our backpacks

because all that dead-weight we carried behind us was above us now

when we were alone in our secret safe space.

 

I have to admit, I didn’t need cozy coffee shops and small corners to feel safe

because we could be fast-pacing through pouring drizzle and almost thunderstorms and I would still feel okay.

I cannot fully explain how the connection we have assures my safety

but I didn’t need anything tangible.

 

you are my own secret safe space.

 

there is something about this summer that didn’t make me worry about falling in love

or losing a friend

or the magic having to be over.

it is a strange kind of forever –

one where I could shut my eyes, dream, and wake up

and it didn’t end when my eyes blinked open.

instead, the magic in my mind was captured

and it radiated into the good parts of my own reality.

 

I used to believe that sad girls wrote best

and that the best heart-felt poetry

were the ones that cried out of heartbreak.

I know now that the best heart-felt poetry aren’t always the ones about being sad and anxious and lonely;

they are the ones where I felt deeply.

 

I no longer wrote summer like a farewell letter or a breakup text message.

I wrote it as if the rainbow was the ink in my pen

and reading it made you feel good.

and the words weren’t sad.

and it was beautiful.

 

every summer became another sad poem,

but this summer was spent with you.

 

so thank you.

I Once Believed This Was It 2.0

I held on to you like a promise.

You were the sand I struggled to keep cupped inside my hands.

I wanted to cross oceans – but I remembered that if I did,

you would slip away.

Slowly floating; I would lose you.

Sinking underwater; my eyes would blur.

Gradually, you would return to the ground and this frightened me

because returning would make me unsure

of who you were.

 

I tried to keep what I promised

and so I waited before I took the leap.

Day by day, I felt cold mornings turn orange and bright with you.

One by one, we traded each other stars until suddenly,

we were both holding the universe.

I felt as infinite as the skies when I made you the center.

You were my world,

and I was so ready to take your hand –

planting flags with you on newly discovered land.

 

However, here I was, back on the surface.

I looked up to see your moon but you kept one side hidden.

I did not understand how you stayed up while I ended up drifting downwards.

I thought the universe we shared would be strong enough to keep us above the same sky but unfortunately,

there was no such gravity to catch my fall.

 

You, the boy I once called “My promise,”

have lost yourself in sands and skies.

I remember your name when I think of an us.

I know you as  Mister “I missed.”

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Love 1.0

I wish I could tell you that I loved you

For you were extraordinary

But your eyes were just a sleepless midnight black

And there wasn’t anything extraordinary about that.

 

I wish I could tell you that I loved you

For the way you always knew what to say

But when I felt insecure and lonely

Your words didn’t make me feel okay.

 

I wish I could tell you that I loved you

For the way you made me taste the universe

But you were a pond that I stepped myself into

And with that, I struggled to immerse.

 

I can tell you, though, that I do love you

For your peculiar way of making me happy

And maybe, also, because for the first time,

I have found someone who has learned to love me.

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We are Faded Pictures from Our Memories

I.

My memories are screaming at me. They’re mad about the times when I smiled when you told me “You’re beautiful.” They’re mad about the times we’d meet up on lonely nights like this — on late nights when the emptiness in the air would consume me and I’d find myself missing you. They’re mad about the meet ups under lamp posts — the ones where we’d hide behind darkness and away from people just to be together for one swift moment. They’re mad about the times I believed you loved me. I get it, stop screaming. I’m mad about them too, I swear. It won’t be this way again. I promise.

II.

We were in a place that was full of longings from our past and people we called our friends. I’ve felt distance when we didn’t see each other for a month but I don’t think I’ve ever felt such distance sitting next to you. My memories, they’re screaming. Please, stop reminding me. Please. I get that it was all beautiful and amazing but do you really have to keep bringing up the past? We both know that it will never be this way anymore. It just won’t. We’re certain.

III.

After a period of loneliness and of not seeing you, I believed that I could actually bring us back — just like how you can pull a loved-one into a hug even when they’ve passed away or how a broken mirror can still be put together even if it has shattered. I actually believed in the impossible. How stupid. How idealistic. I knew about the downfall of what happened but I didn’t think it would have been this bad. I didn’t think it would be unrepairable. Now I know that you should leave the dead in peace and broken mirrors are still in every way shattered, no matter how hard you try to fix it. I shouldn’t have gave into my memories. They only know about the better times. They only scream about what-had-beens.

IV.

We’re seeing each other for another time and it’s like looking back at an old photograph and realizing how long ago it’s been. You’re trying to pick up from where we left off but once again my memories are screaming.

Once again, I am regretting you.

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February 29

It is already February 29

And there isn’t going to be a February 30.

There isn’t going to be another chance,

Another day, where I’d think to myself “Maybe, tomorrow, I’d wake up to the sound

of your name on my phone again.”

Because once more I am going to bed with a locked phone screen.

The last night of the month has come which means I have already ran out of hopeful

mornings.

It is already February 29;

And it’s been a month since you’ve said a word to me.

 

I remember 36 days ago when I gave you the Does He Still Care About Me test

And you failed it.

I gave you no effort points because you waved your pencil down the last number so

mindlessly.

You were giving me all the wrong answers and I knew that you were just trying to find

a way to finish with me already. Thank you for not even trying.

I know now that it was wrong for me to shake an empty can to check if it still perhaps

had spare coins in it

When I knew that it was hollow.

 

How could you have been so ignorant?

I had given you psychology modules on empathy and the way a girl’s mind thinks and

I always thought that my pointers were enough to help you understand how the

depths of the universe in my mind worked

Because I wasn’t just structured bones and organs stuffed into a body;

I was a complicated extension of veins that always needed to be connected to another’s

heart because that’s just how attached I was. I just really needed you to understand that.

But I guess you just haven’t dwelt in deep enough to fully understand what you meant

to me.

I feel like you’ve always just floated in the shallow waters —

Touching me but with a tug of fear at the pit of your stomach

Afraid of the waves that would consume you and turn you into what could’ve been mine.

 

And I don’t know, maybe I was just a bad teacher.

Or maybe you just sat in my class with the words on the board but never a plastered

stone that remained in your mind.

And so I stopped trying to convince you.

I stopped giving you classes because it is, after all, already February 29.

And a year of teaching you felt like nothing.

 

Let me refresh your memory with the three lessons that I had taught:

The first subject was about repetition —

How our mothers repeated “You’re beautiful” so many times over and over that we didn’t believe them anymore

How I love you’s should always be said but never exchanged too much

I always wanted to remind you of the truth but I didn’t want you to get tired of hearing them.

(I always needed you to believe them.)

 

The second subject was about pain —

How you shouldn’t be going around hurting the people you love

Because that, my darling, is not what you call love.

 

The last one was about me —

How I spilled myself to you over and over in hopes of being a part of you forever

How I didn’t want you to get tired of me

How I believed that you were always worth the forgiveness after every dagger you

stabbed through my heart and how I believed that if it was pain, it was just an accident

“Because you shouldn’t be going around hurting the people you love.”

 

I was that kind of teacher that wanted to craft sculptures out of mud — no matter how

messy it could get.

I used to only believe in all your good parts and I didn’t mind the earthquakes that lived inside of you —

The ones that always shook me; always only slightly killing me.

I thought that I was a god and that the dangerous and unstable could be tamed.

But it is already February 29.

And still, you are that glop of mud that I never wanted to believe you to be.

I thought of you better than this.

 

And I don’t know what you will do with all the notes that I gave you and with all the

memories we’ve had inside and out of the classroom.

Perhaps you have thrown them away or forgotten them already.

But I never will.

I mean honestly, it is already February 29,

And here I am writing a poem about my favorite student.

 

I think that my work here is over

Because you no longer seem to need my knowledge, presence, or time.

So I am leaving you here at February 29.

I believe that this is what you call goodbye.

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In Memory of You and Me

I didn’t believe in us

At first when I met you with awkward silences

When you whispered stuttered phrases beneath your shy smile and I didn’t feel like learning your secrets.

But along the way, I saw us in a better light.

No longer a gap inbetween us but rather, a tight hug

With poorly written love letters and secret rendezvous that made me smile endlessly.

I thought that your affection — your attention

Would last.

But you forgot about everything I told you and you left my heart outside your doorstep

Slowly faded when the rain washed it away.

Your memory of me grey and hazy like a blurred vision.

And instead of me writing you a poem, this is turning into yet another poorly written love letter.

Please keep this in a box of memories of us.

My letters are something I wanted you to remember me by.

Because although I knew you said you’d never do this,

Let’s face it,

You were no longer the boy that threw pebbles outside my window.

And I was tired of seeing only raindrops and cold air hit the glass nowadays.

You’ve started to forget.

You’ve started to change.

I didn’t believe in us

Anymore.

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Breathe Through the Evening

It was 10:30 PM and I ran away from home-

Away from all the screaming voices,

Away from all the rocks thrown at me until persecution,

Away from all the pain and judgement,

Away from all my wounds.

 

I wanted to go far.

I wanted to find a place where I could lie on some grass and look at the stars.

I wanted to breathe in nature

And remember I was still alive and that I have survived.

I wanted to forget people existed

And it was just me against the world.

 

But instead, you found me crying underneath a lamp post.

And no, I didn’t get to run very far.

I kept breaking down just as my heart did.

You didn’t ask why but I wanted to tell you everything

Because for the first time tonight,

I was with someone who didn’t carry knives.

But I couldn’t. I couldn’t.

I couldn’t tell you why I was breaking down.

My words kept choking on my thoughts.

 

But you kissed my tears away anyway

And slowly I felt a glimpse of hope grow inside my eyes when I remembered you existed.

My hair was damp with tears and you smoothed it away behind my ears.

You smoothed this pain behind me and we sat underneath that lamp post in silence.

We looked at the stars.

And I thanked the heavens above us when I remembered how saints were too once people.

You took my hand and then suddenly,

We were connected with those constellations.

And then suddenly,

The universe was in our palms

And then suddenly,

I felt whole again.

 

You handed me the world

When I thought I couldn’t live in it anymore.

We could have moved mountains with our touch when in fact a moment ago, I was vulnerable.

But all was better now.

When you had brought me life again. Read the rest of this entry »

Since We’ve Met

I memorized all the stoplights and mini-store corners of this place

But it was a happenstance of wonderment

Stumbling upon this particular house called You.

You were but four walls

And I never bothered peeking through the glass windows.

Either have I not regretted my compass leading me north

Because since then, I never wanted to look back.

I have flown across hues of pink and blue

But none of them were anything quite like you.

I tried reading you.

But people weren’t maps.

So I allowed myself to go on an adventure instead.

So far I have discovered dark graveyards

And leaves falling from their branches.

But I would do anything to bring you life again.

I wanted to explore you.

I wanted to get lost in you.

I was willing to plunge myself into the oceans

And drown myself in all your thoughts.

Drown me in all the things you fear-

And I will turn your shipwreck into something beautiful.

We were made up of different dust particles

But constellations can always be connected.

So go explore the worlds in me.

Just as I have found my home-

It’s you.

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I Guess It’s Over

“Happy Sweet 16th!” they said.

But how come sixteen isn’t all that sweet.

It’s more like bitterness from my thoughts,

And sourness from your ‘love’.

And I wish I was 9 again–

Thinking and believing that sixteen would be a dream;

A dream I lived now that was more of a nightmare.

16 was the age when all of it came to an end.

When I realized happily ever afters did not exist in this princess’ fairy tale.

I didn’t think this day would come so soon.

I’ve always wished that I could be that princess for you.

You have no idea.

To me, you were worth more than diamonds on my crown

And stacks of gold bars treasured in a vault.

I don’t think anybody has ever loved you the way I did.

And there you are–

Riding on a horse with your hair in the wind

And arms wrapped around your waist

By another girl

On the back seat.

And suddenly I no longer feel like a princess,

But rather the dirt being galloped upon

By you and her.

I’d search lands for another Prince Charming.

But I know in my heart that I was never really a princess.

I was only a damsel in distress–

Locked up in a castle,

Years waiting and waiting to be rescued

By someone

Who turns out

To not be you.
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