poems i guess

a place to put my random assortment of original works

[adae-poetry]

growing pains

i feel the ache and stretch of muscle, sinew,

bones, against the bindings of my life.

like those that held my ancestors feet

from getting more than three inches big.

all for the pretense of beauty,

and with no consideration for

the suffering or deformaties

we must carry til the end of our lives.

it starts from birth, cloth wrapped tight,

meant to stifle and silence.

whispered words of reassurance,

'this is for the best.'

and it's easy not to feel

any of the pain

until it stops and is worse

once it starts up again.

did they understand that 'the best' was not

as it was said to to be? did they feel as if

they had been trapped by their history?

did they realise the torture they endured?

or did they too open their eyes

one day, to feel an unscratchable itch

clawing from inside their ribs

in a desperate attempt to break free.

i feel the ache and stretch of muscle, sinew,

bones, against the bindings of my life

like those that held my ancestors back

from standing up against it all.

[adae-poetry]

what goes unsaid

heres a thing that goes unsaid

about moving on from hurt

the dread that drowns from inside your lungs

the hollowness in your heart

the shame and fear of being weak

the crying of oneself to sleep

and worst of all the final straw

you yourself cannot move on

until the perpetrator is gone

and what if he lives within your walls

what if it makes it harder to call

for help? what if your family wont believe

that anyone's doing anything?

and what if theres another kid

who's so much younger, innocent.

but sleeps beside the monster

that lives beneath your bed?

how can you keep her safe without

letting yourself get hurt?

and how could you alone escape

if the hurt could fall to her?

[adae-poetry]

care?

why do i still care what you think of me?

why do i still care about the things you want and need?

why do i even bother trying when

you'll just hint that there's something else missing.

it'll take eight years to erase your touch

that still lingers on my skin.

every cell replaced what you defaced

in those late night minutes of sin.

why do i still listen when i know you never did?

why buy the best vanilla just because you said?

why bake a batch of cookies because they'd complement

the ice cream you said you want to eat it with?

our lives will still be intertwined til one of us moves out.

an arms reach away and not far enough.

the distance feels insignificant while youre off

work and back home for those two days a week.

why do i carve space and time out of my life

to subtly enhance yours?

i hate that you still take up space

but you'd never stop and pause

to think that you could be so fine

with everything that still haunts my mind.

when you move too fast my stomach drops.

though i wish that it would not.

i wish that i could shut you out

of my thoughts and my heart and my life.

but we're tied together,

by blood and by mother

'to have a sibling bond so strong

is all a parent wants'

but the line i drew between me and you

must have turned transparent once

that one meter space beside my chair,

is the place where yours lives, right there.

close enough to hit mine if you push yourself back

close enough to tell whenever you jack–

off the switch in my head

that makes me feel anything good about you.

in the chambers of my heart,

the blood still pumps the same as when we grew

up to anything interesting today?

what do you want to eat tomorrow?

why do i care and why do i bother

if all that you've caused me is sorrow?

i wish it could be easy to go cold turkey

on going through the motions of care.

and even though you're gone most mornings early

your chair will forever live right there.

[adae-poetry]

why do i feel the way i do?

why does my skin crawl when you're next to me?

what have i done wrong?

why do i feel empty?

was it in my head

or was there really damage dealt?

now i start to understand all those things that i felt

back when we were young,

and i thought you had done nothing wrong.

now my chest aches when you're away,

and i cower when you stay.

now my heart pounds when youre near,

and grows still when you disappear

i feel safer when you're gone, when you're far out of reach,

but i miss when we were just kids digging holes at the beach.

why am i afraid of love, if it's meant to be enjoyed?

why did your love hurt when you were just a little boy?

did you like manipulating someone,

controlling all my tears?

did it bring you satisfaction,

knowing you knew all my fears?

did you know i never hated you when we were little kids?

did you know i used to like you, despite all that you did?

we fought a lot, and played a lot,

and made up easily

but some things linger and start to rot,

while you stood there guilt-free.

from where i stand, your teenaged brain still knew far more than mine.

but you went ahead and convinced me it was okay to cross the line.

was it just experimentation,

which is normal at that age?

was it consensual if we were both minors,

and somewhat on the same page?

was it okay if you called all the shots

and took but didn't give?

was it trauma if i choked and almost threw up after it?

you once told mom you loved me

but you didn't like me back then.

i once told mom i loved you,

but it became a lie when

you took advantage of my innocence,

and walked away free of a guilty conscience

i think i could learn to love you again,

but only once your life ends and mine can begin.

[adae-poetry]

volume

you tell me to pipe down.

tell others to speak up.

will you notice something wrong?

will you notice once i'm gone?

the word for what is gone,

is the same as it going.

its left, and its left behind

an emptiness in my mind.

a canary in a cage

sings songs soulfully.

the importance of its presence

is only realised in its absence.

something's gone missing.

the clock stopped its ticking.

the heart ceased its beating.

the silence is deafening.

do you wish to hear my voice?

let the volume be my choice.

let me speak loudly and proudly

instead of softly and hardly

i will take a step back

to give others a shot.

it's only once i'm silenced,

will you realise that i'm gone.

[adae-poetry]

condo by the water

I can no longer go to that condo by the water.

my friend who lived there is gone.

and where they once were is an empty house,

and a couch we laid on together.

the walls no longer echo with the sound of their laugh.

the sink has lost the blue-purple stains of dye,

from when we laughed ourselves breathless.

it’s all been washed away with a layer of bleach.

a dozen paintings lay in boxes to be shipped.

henna left to dry and crack. 

but the clock still ticks on, candles still burn,

and the charred mark on the table remains.

[adae-poetry]

End?

Where does the dream end, and reality begin?

Where will the love end, and the hate begin?

Where does the pain end, (the road end?)

(the work end?) and the play begin?

When does the life end, and the end begin?

What defines the end? If not a need to start again.

[adae-poetry]

to do what must be done

I write this not to boast

but to state that which is true

about my accomplishments,

abilities, and attitude.

I’ve got what is called a ‘growth mindset’,

always working towards improvement,

never satisfied with a job well done

if it wasn’t completed to perfection.

I work like a flame consumes fuel

blazing and burning without rest,

making my way through until

all there is left is ash and I burn out.

My body is a machine

that doesn’t understand maintenance.

It is restless when it rests 

and only useful when it’s used.

[adae-poetry]

warmth

i miss the touch of warm skin to mine,

the caress of breath against the side of my ear.

warmth in my chest, once empty, now filled to the brim

with the close calming cadence of your heart near mine.

i knew your laugh before your face was pictured in my mind’s eye. 

now i get to learn the way your eyes light up in life.

any awkwardness that would be is left instead behind 

closed doors, beyond the space of black reflection.

these things that brought us to a new world

sit comfortably in our hands, the way i wish our hands would

fit. 

[adae-poetry]

shown through scars

at times i wish i could show

my hurt through marks on my skin.

that cry for help wouldn't go unheard,

if it had proof to show its worth.

trapped inside my mind, i cannot find

the right expression that will not be

disbelieved, disregarded, discarded

yet i cannot bring myself to take a knife to skin

what is there to gain from extra pain?

nothing. nothing. nothing at all.

all the while, the helping hand outstretched

has two judgemental eyes deeming some

unworthy of assistance.

seeking help is often met with resistance.

[adae-poetry]

.

i run; 

in my dreams, 

in my thoughts, 

in my mind,

away; 

from these walls, 

from this place, 

from everyone.

those who would harm me; 

intentionally or indirectly

with words, or hands, 

or actions that i can’t

escape 

to a world of peace.

[adae-poetry]

nothing

it started with goodwill.

shoes that could fit an extra toe

oversized clothes, room to grow,

an inch of discomfort, 

for some change in the wallet.

i learnt to expect having to let go 

of these things i knew i’d outgrow.

wish i could cling to that stuffed unicorn

you said i don’t need anymore.

if i let go, how will my unicorn know

that i love her even now. 

if it were me, i’d hold a grudge

and i know that so would she.

can’t help but think i’ll grow out 

of everything i think is good for me.

can’t help but feel like maybe 

the good, it isn’t real.

kept her beside me as long as i could

threadbare, frayed, and laid to rest. 

where she sits unloved in a box

on a shelf out of reach. 

maybe you do know better, but i 

wish i had more time.

nothing is permanent.

though i wish it was, nothing’s mine.

[adae-poetry]

places that are gone

1.

my childhood bedroom, for all of six months

the first time i had a space to call my own

the first place i didn't have to share

somewhere i could stay in all alone

home.

that room is now lost to me

some other little boy or girl lives there overseas

i no longer belong in that home that is gone

the first place i had, is now lost

2.

my first two friends i made after I moved away

we always played where they stayed,

interchanged between both places

i felt safe and at ease

at home.

their homes are now lost to me

both of my first and closest friends are overseas

i can no longer return to those homes that are gone

and i long for the feeling of friendship to last

3.

my best friend's couch was simply unspecial

we spent hours doing nothing but chatting and napping

each day passed before we could process

the travel of the sun across the sky

that was home.

somewhere that met both physical and emotional needs

even if it was temporary, it was comforting to be

there in a place where my ribs dont constrict my breath

each day i worry am i doing something wrong

-

why can't my home feel like im home?

i am tired of holding myself

to the highest standard for reasons

my brain cannot recall

is this all i am meant to be and live and die for?

how long before my sanity snaps

and my home becomes a house that i hate?

where can i go to finally feel at home?

[adae-poetry]

.

what makes a home?

four walls, a floor,

a roof to keep out the rain.

parents that love, nurture and shape you 

into someone independent, 

someone they can depend on 

when they age and inevitably need

to be taken care of

is that all we’re made of?

their love, unconditional, comes with

expectation, that no matter what,

'because we raised you, you’ll lay us to rest.'

[adae-poetry]

doors

all doors lock, or should,

shouldn’t they?

front doors, bathrooms, bedrooms.

a lockless door is a room unsafe.

an hourglass unprotected loses time;

sand trickling out the cracked glass body.

light creeps through the gap of the door

creaks open letting in everything 

intended to be locked out.

[adae-poetry]

.

perhaps its unfair to ask for more 

than what you gave

four walls, three meals, a bed.

i wish not to take too much, 

as much as i crave 

more.

a door that can lock from inside,

a space to displace this ache.

i long to breathe, unburdened, free.

instead i have tiny cups of coffee and wine

sharing in your joy while still neglecting mine

i delight in the quiet of a half-filled home

a nightmare lives within what i live without

know i am safe in an empty room

with a door i cannot lock 

[adae-poetry]

dysfunction

all the outside sees is functionality

because i don't believe in displaying my inabilities

i'd rather show a front facing facade

that crumbles as soon as i let myself drop my guard

even while 'safe',

my mind wages a war with my heart.

why cant i do things so simple?

why must they feel so hard?

the force of will i must control

to simply roll out of bed

covers left unkempt

but at least i can stand

to fail to brush my teeth

fix food to eat

it's inconvenient, i'll just keep on

moving along to what i can handle right now