March is the month I ask myself why my mother tongue has the same word for past and ghost. When my past has a pulse, is every tick of the clock just another heartbeat? Will it always haunt me? When I lie down, will I always mistake my body for a ticking time bomb?
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See yesterday I read that Pluto has a sea in the shape of a heart. And that it’s filled with poisonous ice. I wish I didn’t think of you when I heard that. I wish I had never explored the toxic depths of your love to replace your name with lethal in my head.
You know I tried to bury us. I tried to bury what we had, but for a long time I couldn’t. Maybe it was because we didn’t have a goodbye. No cause of death. No closure. So baby, listen up. I’m scripting my own happy ending. I’m holding a funeral to mourn what we were. I know it’s going to have to be an empty casket, but that doesn’t matter. This is me promising my poems that they will never have to scream your name again. My metaphors are tired of wrapping themselves around your memory and so am I. Goodbye.
In march, my sister and I go watching stars again. I feel like I am 10 again and still afraid of being inadequate for the world. This time too, she kisses my forehead again and I feel the sadness leave my body. We watch the constellations fade. She strokes my hair. I fall asleep for the first time in days. Sometimes our guardian angels are closer than we think.
I’ve got my mother’s paranoia and my father’s impulse. This month they showed me just how lethal they could be. My mouth says the words it shouldn’t have and my heart is restless. My mouth gets trigger happy. My mouth answers before the question is even asked and my heart is just waiting for someone to tell me that it was wrong. My heart always on its toes. Always holding its breath. Always prepared for the fall. It thinks every kiss will eventually become another bruise, another scar, another wound.
In the madness of march, I find peace in my friends. It feels like the world is going to rip us apart, and hell maybe it will, but right now, I’m looking at them and they’re looking at me and we’re laughing. Right now, everything is wonderful. And right now, that’s all that matters.
These days I am all prairie flower under violet skies. Letting the breeze take me where it wants. Our bodies make 300 billion cells in our body everyday, so we’ll never be who we were yesterday again, and I am learning to get used that. Change is coming for me and I am opening my doors.
This was the month of learning that I don’t always have to be the villain. This was the month of learning that I don’t need to be the saviour either. This was the month of summer rain and winter sunrise. This was the month of bright lights and brighter eyes. This was the month of rot and bloom. This was the month that walked the line of the days I want to remember and days I need to forget.
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[A/N- Part 3/12 of 2016 Series]