Metaphorical Mind

[lovelynda888]

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[lovelynda888]

Blue Moon

Quarter to three.

I am still here with a glass of water I haven't touched and thoughts that refuse to be parked.

Waiting for what.

I don't know.

Maybe nothing.

Maybe that's the problem.

There are two of me tonight.

One is fast asleep.

One sits in the dark, and feels the dark is more honest than any daylight I have ever lived through.

My subconscious tonight is like a city I knew, but all the roads have been moved.

I turn right and end up somewhere I should have left behind long ago.

There are faces.

Not all of them belong to people still living.

Not all of them belong to people who ever existed.

Some are perhaps just parts of me I never gave room to speak.

And tonight they are demanding.

About what the night has never taught on a blue moon.

Whether it is about the dark and the silence.

And about how you finally meet yourself without pretending there is somewhere else to be.

Between sleep and waking, there is a place with no name.

I go there often without meaning to.

There time doesn't depart anywhere.

There everything unfinished sits side by side with everything that will never be finished.

And both look exactly the same.

Dawn will come and I will pretend last night nothing happened.

Drink coffee.

Open my phone.

Watch a film.

But somewhere inside the chest, something knows.

Last night I went somewhere deep.

And came back carrying something that doesn't yet know its own name.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[lovelynda888]

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙱𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚊 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

𝙸𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜.

𝙴𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚜,

𝚠𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜,

𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜

𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚍.

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎

𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚢.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚊 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎.

𝙸𝚝𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎.

𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞,

𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞,

𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚠𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚜

𝚗𝚘𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎.

𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝,

𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚑.

𝙰 𝚜𝚞𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚌,

𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚝,

𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐,

𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞

𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚏 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚍

𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝.

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑

𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚝.

𝙸𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛.

𝙸𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗.

𝙸𝚗 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚊 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎.

𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜.

𝙰𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜.

☆♬○♩●♪✧♩

[lovelynda888]

Your Name in the Air

It wasn't me who said it.

It was simply there

between the smoke and the rain.

And the sound of a spoon

from the small shop next door.

My tongue knew its shape

before my mind could stop it.

That is how something loved

works inside the body.

Quietly,

without goodbye,

without asking

whether you are ready.

The air holds nothing.

But my chest holds everything.

Every time your name passes through,

it presses something in there.

That has no name

in any dictionary.

Tonight the wind comes from the west.

Your name came with it

from whatever city,

from whatever mouth.

And I am here

not saying it.

Only feeling it pass.

Like someone

who is learning to let go

by staying still,

when what they've released

touches their shoulder

one more time.

You are not here.

But your name

has taken a place

in the corner of this room.

As if it has the right.

And I have not asked it to leave.

There is something heavier

than loss,

when what is lost

still leaves its weight.

In this mattress.

In this cup.

In the pause before I answer

someone else's question.

Someone asked me earlier,

“Are you okay?”

I said yes.

Your name passed through

the spaces between

those letters.

What no one teaches you

about longing is

it does not arrive large.

It arrives small.

The size of your silence before sleep.

The size of a radio jingle

slightly off-key.

The size of a detergent scent

that isn't yours.

But somehow

feels like home.

I no longer say your name

out loud.

But my body

still says it

in its own way.

A heartbeat slightly different,

a breath slightly held,

a hand that stops briefly

in the middle

of doing something else.

Perhaps this is how it goes.

Your name in the air,

me beneath it.

Not waiting,

or forgetting.

Only standing inside

a life that keeps moving.

Learning that

some things don't need to be finished

for you to go on.

*:..｡o○　○o｡..:*

[lovelynda888]

Blue Hill

​Have you ever felt a deep longing to go somewhere far away?

Yes, to that hill

The one that looks far north from your attic

Blue

The hill is blue and the sky is grey

Since childhood, I always wanted to go far out there

Wondering if there was

Green grass and little yellowish flowers

With spacious, wide open clouds

Just a peaceful blue sky

Where the sun never burns

Only a nice breeze blowing through the pollen

And we would run beautifully in white dresses

Then I went there

When I had grown up

But what I had in mind wasn't there at all

There was only a dense, crowded sea of settlement

For those who came from everywhere

With black pools of public baths

Stained with grime overgrown with moss

And their houses made of thin flimsy wood

Where is the blue hill I saw back then?

I went home still carrying that image

An image that was still alive as my feet stepped into my attic

Maybe

Just maybe

The flower field is actually behind that hill

That gentle sky is behind all of it

When we go far

Really far

Beyond the rolling hills of your fantasy and dreams

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･*

[lovelynda888]

Dust

On the table, a cup of tea slowly loses its heat, much like how I let go of my expectations today.

We cannot force the sun to keep burning inside a room.

Sometimes, letting the dark inherit the room is the most graceful way to rest.

​Catching a long sigh and putting it into a glass bottle steeped with rose petals.

I place it on the windowsill, letting the night wind evaporate it little by little.

Not every burden has to be carried until the spine splinters.

Some exhaustion is best distilled into fragrance, then left to dissolve into the air.

And I close my eyes, allowing myself to become lighter than the dust dancing under the lamplight.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

[lovelynda888]

Bitter

We busy ourselves nailing memories to the floor so nothing dares to leave when the room goes dark.

Forgetting that a floor too crowded with the past will only make us stumble.

I start walking outside, voluntarily letting things fall from my coat pockets.

Peace, it turns out, doesn't come when we hold onto everything too tightly.

​I choose to go home carrying an intact piece of silence and keep it in the desk drawer.

It arrives without knocking.

There is no tea or small talk. We just sit across from each other, watching the calendar shed its dates.

Then I realized, bitterness allowed to sit quietly will stop tearing the house apart.

It is merely taking shelter, and will leave on its own once the weather starts to clear again.

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

[lovelynda888]

I saw someone swallow their house key this morning.

They said it's so no one else can get inside their head.

Makes sense.

.・。.・゜✭・