These 4 poems are based on memories and feelings that feel like they don't belong,
I mean strong feelings towards certain ideas despite not having lived them. The theme here is just the
past, both happened and possibleIt no longer bleeds
My first love was not some boy with glasses
It was not the girl with the constellation freckles
It was not the one who kissed me under a stop sign
It was not the one who traced my spineMy first love was life
The first thing I perceived
A lover unlike no other
One who tried to keep me relievedA lover I felt unworthy of
Death flirted with me at night
He whispered in my ear in the darkest hour
My previous love forgotten along with self-loveDeath made me an addict
High on an idea of secrets
I would gladly overdose on this love
In my heart forever rested perished dovesRehabilitation brought me back to Life
Love as warm as Sunday mornings
Willingly I become a bride
There is no more need for warningsPassion lingered in the past
The burning adrenaline no longer in my veins
Forbidden flirtations rest behind lock and key
A semicolon on my arm serves as a reminderThe rebellious excitement of my affaire has left
Ever so often I recall it but it no longer consumes
Now the mornings come with ease and light
Such comfort that one almost forgets the darkSurviving the affaire leaves you branded
A scar that is etched into your bones
It remains tender and some days it aches
But it no longer bleedsIt no longer bleeds
Unlived nostalgia
Somewhere in me I harboured nostalgia
A longing for a moment unlived
A desperate grief clinging to a fantasyI remembered climbing into your car
The music loud and the night dark
Our voices mingling with the radio
Promises we made high on laughter
Their contracts written in waterI buried my head into your shoulder
We raced over the street on your bike
The setting sun greeted us warmly
We layed on the grass
Wondering where we came fromIn another life we danced in the kitchen
Oversized shirts and cheap lighting
I sat on the counter as we cooked
You sang along to a song unknown
The cookies burnt to crisp as we giggledWe sat in my fast car
We drove through the night
High on ideas on what we'd do
Our freedom fluorescent as the moon
Tripping on the idea that we were in loveSugar, confetti and glass covered floor
We danced one last dance
My bare feet on the floor
Your jacket on my frame
You scooped up a discarded ribbon
Tied it into my hair with a kissArriving home after a long day
Clothes crumpled and hair array
We sat on our couch, paper bags between us
Cold food became heaven with honeyUnlived moments of longing
Memories built on wishes
Unjustified nostalgia running in my veins
Maybe I have lived them and love rememberingPast summers
Summer was baptised in lemons
Songs and cheers exchanged for pennies
Sea bleached hair dancing in the wind
Sandcastles built on hopeThe sugar wore off and left me sour
Pennies would not buy me love
The salt infused scabs scarred over
Waves washed away the grains of saltSummer left laughing
and I awaited their return in the rainInner child
At night I hear her scream
The little girl inside me who sobs and wails
'It isn't fair! It isn't fair'
A burning sensation of injusticeNothing I do can silences her
Teen me tries to coarse her into sleep
No matter what they attempt, she wailsShe sits perched on my shoulder
Reminds me of the injustices I have faced
She beats her fists against a wall at the current turmoil
I can only hug her and sit with her
Allow her to let it all out to meWhen she fusses at night I cry
Realisation strikes me, but I quiet
Meanwhile she slams the doors in my body
'It isn't fair!!! It isn't fair!!'
'I know... I know sweetling'
I press a kiss to her forehead and hold her close
Eventually the tears make way
The shaking eases and she falls asleep
I remain awake to guard her'It's alright my dear, tonight will pass'
'We're older, we're you, trust us, you will survive'That is what we whisper to her as she dreams
YOU ARE READING
Saudade
PoetrySaudade /saʊˈdɑːdə/ noun: saudade; plural noun: saudades (especially with reference to songs or poetry) a feeling of longing, melancholy, or nostalgia that is supposedly characteristic of the Portuguese or Brazilian temperament A gathering of my po...