An academy of insults
the strychnine of silence
harbor only false hope
in this place of desolation
standing idly at the line’s end
holding your boarding passes
and carry–on in one hand
and your lover in the other
what kind of comedy
is happily ever after
when you’ve grown tired
of telling him goodbye?
Sometimes I remember
what it was like to smile
to feel the sunlight on my skin
that warmth, was it your hand
on mine that made me simmer
inside, made the worms create
cocoons to emerge as butterflies
Sometimes I remember
how it felt to feel the rain
splatter on my lips, quench
the thirst of arid summers
feel the specks of sand
clump between my toes
like a second flesh, to see
rainbows cut across the sky
a tapestry of endless colors
Sometimes I remember
the echoes of your voice
and mine, that laughter
after a well-told joke
a casual smile, splashing
rain, was it your laughter
from the lungs, from the stomach
to my unbeating, broken heart
I.
At the airport they escorted me to the side
where I stood waiting to be patted down
and examined. “It’s standard procedure,”
said the man ahead of me in line. He had brown hair
and sunglasses. “Happens to me almost every time.”
Wandering the streets
I stare at my feet
the white stones on the ground
broken all around
I hear our cries echoing
my tears still choking
the breath from my lungs
at our city undone
Through darkness I may wander, may there always be a light
The pain in which I despair, may it always lead me right
Through the sorrow so deep in me, may there always be the fright
The sadness in my soul I keep, may it prove me weaker than my might
Excerpted from I is for It Gets Better
Silent Soliloquy 