Talking to the sky

We’re all a little broken,
a little ripped open,
it’s the way the universe works
pulling us apart in order to expand us and explore all the facets of our hearts,

we’re not here to accommodate others,
we’re here to come to an understanding of ourselves
by filling all the gaps within us with
kintsukoroi drops of golden life and joy,

it’s not up to others to decide
what nectar we suckle on,
we cannot expect any other
but ourselves
to heal our wounds,
any injury done unto us
is the universe communicating with you
to tell you that it’s time to grow,
to expand to grander things

Mind Maps

I will never sit steady upon the dilapidating pedestal
of a half-real, memory-contaminated human
that is no longer here,
made of that tall stool you placed in the palace of your mind,

I’ll never be enough of something
and too much of another
to ever fit into the mold of her,
who came before every other,

I can’t be her, I can’t compensate for your loss,
I can’t replace the gaping wound of her passing
that you can never quench,

I can’t fill the tiresome cracks, symptomatic of the crumbling,

I can’t be what you want me to be
because it has already existed
and that human shaped combination
is something that can’t and shouldn’t be replicated,

it hurts to be in love with someone that’s pining over a dead girl,
ten years in the aching,

it hurts, to see one hurting and know the only thing to cork the sorrow
is six-feet-underground,

it is a very disconcerting feeling to be comforted by
the very person that caused you the pain,

my mind hijacked from the moment upon waking today,
filled with ringing thought sirens
signalling in too many (mis)directions,
consuming all the thoughts that keep me present in my path,
automated conversation making
my thoughts stuck on repeat,
but fixated on a record that is not here,
but there,
trapped inside sound bites of your mind-maps