Poetry and Prose Collection XXVII
*all writing pieces originally from Instagram @mi.haloes*
“down the drain”
I strut down the main roads, conniving my way through your mental pathways.
A cashmere scarf hugs my heart while she hugs yours,
every perfume she wears reminds you of a time that no longer exists.
A gentle laugh echoes my speeches of greatness, a political debate that was set to be a losing battle from the first class bell,
from the first forced icebreaker and homeroom folktales and fables.
As I spent my days in the library,
I spend the rest of my life in your mental cages.
A haunting dove that you refuse to feed, refuse to love and let wither away into the background.
As the night breaks into your inflamed bedroom fairytales, every particle of me in the ceiling will torment your nightmares as she embraces them away.
As her memories replace mine,
you learn to love with every potency of love,
every glance into her eyes will conceal mine.
As I waste away in your emptied whiskey bottle,
you drown me out in the sink.
You water me down the drain, returning the haunting parts of my soul back to me,
lathering me with your scent and sounds of smiles that only associate with her.
As if karma heard the tides of our rough waters,
she washes me away to the bottom of the basin where I can never emerge from again.
Blessing your soul as mine lays cursed within the depths;
never-ending waves and riptides tear us apart with every break in the crystal surface.
It is all drowned out now,
I have been completely drowned out as you continue to sail onwards with the winds of change that now bring you fortitude.
(2023, Dec 19)
“a dead-end story”
I collapse on the surface of my grave,
igniting the timber wood that flares as I touch its soft design. An intricacy that existed long before our coffee cups, filled to the brim with bad decisions, were left to soal in the sink.
As time sank into the night, your deceiving eyes reflected admittingly onto the sliding door.
And now, above my grave, I sit and reminisce about all the mistakes mixed with rum and cola, all the lies that came out of our crystalline glasses.
As I cascade like a ghost into the dawning of the midnight sun, I awake to find your pitiful silhouette inch closer. The soft grass rustles beneath your boots and trenchcoat.
You were once a vessel filled with a sense of paradise,
but now your aura has become a fearful entity that feels my otherworldly gaze on you.
You once cared, and now you fear me.
You once learned to love, and now you fear the mere idea of me.
I laugh at the pathetic irony of our situation.
My corpse may haunt the layers that exist six feet below,
but you are the one who remains dead.
My ghost may have reached the gates of a hellish abyss only now,
but my dear,
you were already there, weren’t you?
(2023, Dec 9)
“empty days”
On empty days, I write your name in the sky with my eyes. Every cloud drifts like a departing memory of what we once existed as.
Within the palm of your hand and solitaire dressing hers,
I dance with the melodies of a timeless paradise that once existed with you. A history unwritten in the sky that overlooks the rest of my life. I am forever engraved with uncontrolled serenity. Unfounded delusions that blow my love out of proportion, cracking the delicate ribs that protect the lungs,
fracturing the nurturing heart.
Endless mistakes to endless forever,
on all of those empty days,
I remember them all.
(2024, Feb 6)
“historical remnants”
Amidst the tremendous currents that sink the vessels of the perilous-hearted,
I search for every debris that resides on the ocean floor from the ruckus;
searching for the pieces of a story that recites the thousand breaths of a hundred soldiers and sailors.
Amidst the metal ruins, where the cities grow into kingdoms built on the bones of the olden,
I collect the shards that tell the anecdotes of the love-lorn.
Amidst all the tragedies and anguish, life silently constitutes every circumstance and every piece of emotion. Amidst all the soulless lies lay the little remnants of history.
(2024, Feb 8)
