l’appel du vide

just my writing | copyright 2014-present | currently taking poetry requests

[luniapoetry]

“Dear Me,

I see the struggles you’ve been through. I see the guilt and shame you still carry. How could you have done that? How could you have not known that that wasn’t okay to say? How could you not have seen it? But those hows don’t matter anymore. Let them go. What has happened in the past has happened. It’s all so heavy, and you don’t need to carry it anymore. You can set it down. I forgive you. I forgive me. I forgive the child we were, and I forgive the teenager we were, and I forgive the young adult we’ve become. We’ve been broken, and we’ve been bruised, but we’re still here, still breathing, still hoping. Set it down. Drop it on the curb. Go home, be safe, be loved. And if you pick it up by accident again, if that weight returns, throw it out again and again. It’s not yours to carry anymore. Know this above all else. You are forgiven, and you are loved. I am forgiven, and I am loved. We are forgiven, and we are loved.

Love,

Me.”

[luniapoetry]

“Because of the movies, I thought love was supposed to be ground-breaking. Love was supposed to take your broken pieces and put them back together. Love was supposed to be your other half. But see, I did my healing, and I was already whole before I loved you. I’ve found our love is a much quieter thing. Love is having a rough day and coming home to a cup of tea ready for you on the table. Love is being wrapped in a blanket before you even process you’re shivering. Love is a million different moments, some loud, some soft, but all chanting the same thing.”

—you are loved, you are loved, you are loved (10/4/2021)

[luniapoetry]

“The grass, just long enough to provide a cushion for our heads, is still slightly wet. As I curl into your warmth, the clouds above us part. Your face, upturned, bathed in unexpected sunshine may be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. There’s a faint buzzing surrounding us, and I lift my head to find that the sky is filled with dragonflies. They surround us in glimpses of green, blue, and pink, our own personal rainbow, and I can’t fight my laughter. I’m so happy to be here with you. I’m so happy to be home.”

—home (10/3/2021)

[luniapoetry]

“I reach back for your hand, only to find empty air. It’s almost funny how the heart forgets its worst ache in moments like these, but then there’s only the refrain — you are gone, you are gone, you are gone.”

—drowning on dry land (9/30/2021)

[luniapoetry]

“Scraped knees and a broken heart, your number is dialed before I realize you won’t pick up. I hold onto the pink blanket you’d wrap me in and crumble, trying to find my way back to your arms, trying to find my way back to when you had all the answers, trying to find my way back to you. But I can’t. The phone line is cut. Our house is full of people I don’t know. They auctioned off your belongings like you were a stranger with no one to love you, no one to grieve you. I wonder if they can hear my ghost running through the halls, for that hopeful child died the moment I was left behind, frigid wind ripping through my clothes, holding tight to roses instead of your hand. I still feel that wind through the emptiness in my heart where you should be. I wonder if it will ever stop.”

—grief (9/30/2021)

[luniapoetry]

“Soft waves lapped against our boat, the sound echoing into the cave. The cobalt blue glow illuminated your upturned face, a beacon in the darkness. My breath caught as you moved. Your piano fingers lifted, as if in prayer, as if this moment could only be captured by reverence. A midnight sky, projected across these rocky walls by such tiny creatures. You turned for a moment, meeting my eyes. I only gestured silently around us. I couldn’t speak. This was something holy, something awestriking, and words failed us both. As their sticky strings tangled in your curls, I tugged you down beside me. My eyes never left your face. I understood, then, why our ancestors looked to the stars. How their love inspired the creation of legends, of constellations, of far off worlds and epic adventures. I looked at you, and love wrapped us in a never ending song. I looked at you and dreamt.”

[luniapoetry]

“A friend once asked me what the meaning to life was. Must there be only one? Meaning weaves itself through the giggling of a child as he buries his face in my chest. Meaning smiles down on me as I wish the dog on the corner good morning and good night each day. Meaning plays peek-a-boo with my kittens as they chase their toys and deposit them loyally by my feet. Meaning is here. Meaning is everywhere. It is simply up to us to see it, to recognize it, to hope for more.”

—musings part 2 (4/10/2021)

[luniapoetry]

“When the music stops, the only sound left behind is the click-clacking of your footsteps as you clean up the exuberance of strangers. You walk a little lighter, hoping your actions muffle the echoing halls. It doesn’t work. The drunken, infatuated laughter from outside bounces in through the window but seemingly dies before it meets your ears. It’s all too far away. Does it bother you? Your friends murmur concernedly about how quiet you are these days, but all you do is smile. When all you know is noise, quiet seems like hell. What, instead, is there when words come more sparingly than notes from an out-of-tune piano? Some people say it’s peace. I wonder if I will ever know the feeling.”

—musings (4/10/2021)

[luniapoetry]

“There is a sign in the park. In it, I see my reflection. I do not recognize the face that stares back. It follows me as I walk, the words etched into every step I take. How much of life is coping? When my first crush gave his heart to someone else, I hid the drawings he’d given me deep in my closet. The monster held them close so I could sleep without him creeping into my dreams. I learned how to let someone I love go. How much of life is coping? When my childhood home was no longer mine, I left my heart under the floorboards of the room where I slept. The marble I flicked behind the wall still remembered my smile. I learned how to patch the gaping hole in my chest. How much of life is coping? When the woman who raised me passed into the next world, I lost all sense of time and gravity. The freshly overturned soil soaked in my grief, offering respite from the cold headstone. I learned how to find love in fleeting moments and memories. How much of life is coping? The shattered glass strewn under these benches feels more familiar than photos of me taken only yesterday. Ivy creeps through the gravel, winding up my legs and into my heart. I stand still in spring and yet the chill of winter reddens my cheeks. The words taunt me, ever carried on the wings of butterflies drifting past. How much of life is coping? I retrace my steps back over the path I’d taken. I don’t stop until I’m standing in front of a three-year-old me, sprawled out on a concrete driveway with bloody knees. I watch the woman who raised me scoop me into her arms. She smooths my hair, brushes away my tears, and wraps me in a soft blanket. I hear her voice like it was only yesterday. As I pass the sign again, I tape a small piece of paper to it, adding only a few letters. How much of life isn’t coping?”

—10/02/2020

[luniapoetry]

“For so long, I was unknown. My heart searched for kindness in shadows; my head tried to make sense of the ocean. Birds sang as I stood still. They understood. There is a sort of peace in accepting the inevitable, in acknowledging that time stops for no one. But what happens when you are no one? When your spine is rotting evergreen branches and your voice little more than whispers, what keeps you from fading as summer slips away? Look to the sky. The sunset is passing by. Within minutes, it will be gone, subdued by the shades of dusk. I am there, caught in the clouds. Laughter from lovers, intoxicated by the sheer presence of the other, floats to me on the breeze. How lovely it is, even now. Birds soar as I smile. They understand. As the dying light disappears under the horizon, I am finally known.”

—9/28/2020

[luniapoetry]

“Once upon a time, there was a little girl. She wasn’t the princess most fairy tales are written around; her hair was not long or blonde, and her parents weren’t misled but loving royals. The tower she was trapped in was built from bricks of silence and loss; the cement fusing it all together was one part alcohol, three parts abuse. There was nothing pretty about this story. Over time, though, the little girl grew up. Bright sunbeams of kind whispers and soft touches began to filter through the darkness of the tower. She nurtured tiny seeds of hope in the sunlit corner of the tower, and as they bloomed, she did too. Darkness, of course, cannot stand the light; as her warmth grew each day, the tower walls began to crumble. One morning, she found herself standing, not on cold, barren floors, but on soft, rich soil. Birdsong filled the air. Butterflies drifted towards her on the lazy breeze. Her toes curling into the earth, she took a step forward, out from the ruins of the tower. Her parents gaped from their castle of hurt, demanding to know who had saved her from her tower. The slightest dimples appeared on her cheeks as the young woman turned her freckled smile to the sun.”

–I did (5/14/2020)

[luniapoetry]

"At the end of the day, at least he chose me. You were just the 'buy one, get one free' package deal, the 'I only wanted one but they wouldn't let me leave without two.' At least I was wanted."

--daddy issues (5/8/2020)

[luniapoetry]

“Do you have any idea how much darkness you have to create to stop the spring flowers from blooming? Of course you do. I know you do because I know the man who puts the sun to shame. I know how each word out of his mouth is another seed tucked into rich soil. I know how every musical note of his creates a new bird singing to the rising sun. And unfortunately, I know exactly what you did to cast him into the deepest ocean-tinged sadness that the world has ever seen. You promised him he was the only one. He wasn’t. You promised him you’d never leave. You did. The door slammed shut behind you, and the world went dark, plunged into a premature winter. It took months for love to convince him to rise again, to reassure him that the ocean wouldn’t roar awake to drown him once more. I cannot believe you had the audacity to try to prove love wrong. You tried to pull him back down into your dark trenches, back down to your level, but he’s stronger now. His lips create the stunning northern lights as he smiles, knowing you’ll never hurt him again.”

—I used to ask if you were happy. I hope you’re not (4/12/2020)

[luniapoetry]

“The rotted pumpkins, still perched on their porch swing, crept into their souls. You didn’t see it immediately. Perhaps if you had, you could’ve run away. Instead, you dared to relax. You lowered your shoulders. You took a deep breath. You gave a hesitant smile. It was only when they smiled back at you that you realized how these wounds had festered. Gaping holes opened in their cheeks, tinged an angry, infected red from the hatred in their words. You froze and hoped stillness might buy you time. The false idol constructed of their ego and pinned together with fear, the fear of being different, the fear of the unknown, filled the air with a cloying stench of mold. You gagged and finally stumbled backward, reaching for the doorknob, but it was too late. Too late. Too late. Before you knew it, your back was against a wall. They closed in. Everything went black.”

—poisonous (12/1/2019)

[luniapoetry]

“My heart pounds in the empty space between your skin and mine. This must be what Heaven looks like. There are spring meadows in your smile and autumn leaves in your fingertips. You touch me and suddenly I’m bursting with all the colors of a summer sunrise.”

—divinity (11/27/19)

[luniapoetry]

“I didn’t wake up prepared to lose you. How, then, did I know you were gone before I opened my eyes? The spot in my heart where I held your tears, your laughter, all of your days both good and bad was empty. You had been stolen away. My pillow was soaked with tears, as were my cheeks. I knew you were gone. I forced myself back into sleep, looking for some kind of answer, but I was taunted by your ghost. He smiled at me. He told me everything was okay. He told me I could just wake up. How could I do that knowing you were gone? No. He was but a memory of better days. You would’ve known that we don’t say goodbye. My love, my darling, I’m coming. You won’t have to go it alone. I will follow you into the dark.”

—hold my hand (10/23/19)

[luniapoetry]

“I never knew empty air could be this sharp. Your hands were on my skin, your voice was in my ear, and I was floating in ecstasy until a knock at the door interrupted us. My hand reached out to trace your jaw before freezing in midair. I opened my eyes. My heart dropped. I was alone in this room, in this bed; it was a cruel reminder that you were hundreds of miles away, suspended in the screen of my laptop. The warmth disappeared from my body. Even after the visitor was dismissed from my door, we couldn’t reclaim our moment. You were there, and I was here. No soft words would change that.”

—this distance hurts (8/26/19)