#poetri

[nameless-assassin]

[small-dark-and-delicious]

[densistakakan]

När jag går in till mig kommer ensamheten till mig som en hund som har väntat på sin matte. Fortfarande kan den hitta sina sätt att smyga sig in när mina tankar blir högre än ljudet av musiken eller mina vänner. Väl hemma, när det bara är jag och min hund, letar jag snabbt efter en hundleksak eller godis som kan distrahera min hund. Men hunden kommer alltid till mig förr eller senare i hopp om att köra dragkamp. Jag förlorar varje gång.

[riwritingrn]

Your kiss dissolves in my mouth like a lemondrop, like cottoncandy that stains my lips strawberry pink

Like a lozenge for the lump in my throat

Time has no meaning here

Trapped in a limbo here with you

Frozen in time like a scene inside a snowglobe

You and me and the sea

This moment dissolves like rock salt in water

Until it feels as though I'm looking through a dirty window at a memory that isn't mine

It seems like you live lightyears away under different skies, in a different time

But sometimes I remember when I look at the stars, that you and I, we look at the same sky

So I send my regards, my affection, as a kiss blown in the wind

I hope it grazes on your skin, I hope it finds you well

And maybe you aren't, but I hope you're doing well, I hope you're happy, I hope you're content

[riwritingrn]

On a neon sticky note you wrote five Decembers ago

"Get powdered cocoa"

We made hot chocolate later that night

Its been five years since the last time

The note has been since folded

Horizondally, vertically, moulded then remoulded

I keep it, neatly folded, in my purse

Long after you took away your pants and shirts

On a neon sticky note, thats no longer sticky, you wrote five Decembers ago

"Get powered cocoa

Love ya"

And a little heart drawn next to it

[riwritingrn]

I leave my abode only to return as a spectator

Only to haunt these halls as a ghost

I leave my childhood in a whisper

Like a sustained note slowly fading into nothingness

Unknowingly, unintentionally

I leave all loves of my life only to return at instances, briefly, as a stranger

Wornout toys still on the living room floor,

Faceless people I can only remember by places and things we shared,

A kiss I left at the sea,

A hand I didn't take,

My friends, who are now timezones away,

My favourite worn out tee under my bed, forgotten,

Rollerskates without wheels,

Cycles with training wheels,

Staying up till 2 am

And when I met my best friend years later he felt out of place

A memory now forged into my reality and I know he felt the same way

Too much time goes on by to ever recover what we had then

So a slight nod and a smile and a "How are you? I'm fine" will suffice

I return back home, a home that was never really mine

[riwritingrn]

Sometimes I think of how things would be after I have died, when there is more context to how I had lived.

Would it be obvious what led to my demise?

Would my obsessions and fixations burn me alive?

Would my love run stale and would i turn cold? Or would i die with a heart swelled with love?

Would I die doing something i did every other day, be it healthy or not?

Would it be after my hair had fallen out and my skin pruned up or long after my hair has silvered and smiles have left lines on my face?

Would I die in the arms of someone I love or on the cold, hard floor? Or would i die silently, among the roots, and no one knows?

Would I make sense after I have died?