Pieces of Moonbeams

CXLIX: red strings

i.

i really wish i could draw invisible lines & threads & the
infamous 'red strings of fate' that signify my longings for you.
& connect it on your flesh for the meantime--so i don't
mind revolving around the sun with the absence of your
warmth, with the absence of your world i love to orbit, with
the absence of my ventricles latching my love on your veins
without listening to your heartbeat (i wonder if it still
blares like a megaphone before, or as quiet as my whispers
of 'i love you's' you can't hear 'cause my faint voice utterly
echoes mere silence.)

so i don't mind being away. so i don't mind slipping away
inches apart from your palms, alongside the crease of your
wrist with my name smeared on your skin.

i know you'll wash it straight away after--cos you don't want
to be tainted by my own hands & labeled as
mine-& as one of the flowers i ought to tend even though the light is
away. even though my tears were drizzles pouring on your
petals.

so i don't bother stripping my pieces along my hatred upon my own skin. so i don't bother shedding off my exteriors for you to caress my softness inside.

so i don't care if the burdens i lift on my shoulders will tell you how to ease my pain. so i don't have to bleed everytime i am away...

i don't want you to ache with me. i don't want to inflict wounds on you just because i'm wounded myself. i don't want you to bleed just because i'm bleeding too.

i don't want to share pain with everything i love.

ii.

i always hoped that our world couldn't be separated nor
branched off from each other—but the spheres we'd dwelt
together at a point were meant to split and crack and stray
apart 'cause we have parallel worlds to live.

like a melting iceberg wandering afloat-along its sheer
loneliness to paddle upon a vague horizon: alone & astray,
searching for warmth amid drifting across scenery to
scenery searching the sun.

*

it's only a trickery—an illusion i scatter on my mind that
implies all my flawed imaginations that i could be with you.

that we could sit during our vacant hours on rigid bleachers
vacated of people. that i could imitate the way your soles
walk over the pavement left and right. left and right.

that i could lightly stroke your hair's split ends which
topples at the edge of your forehead. that we could stare at
the white clouds & purple skies floating over the twilight

even for a moment, seconds, hours, years. even for forever,
& everlasting minutes... i couldn't label things 'terms to name
time' for it was still when orbs of yours collide with mine.

iii.

for so long, i'd believed love would be boundless: that its
extremities would stretch & stretch & stretch & stretch until
the layers it have extending would be fractured since the
love shared couldn't keep up—overlapping & stacking upon
one another with love intensified more than the other.

that there are no forces impeding two pair of hands to brush
in the outlines of cosmos. that there are no wands we cast
upon ourselves nor arrows of cupid nor concealed links
between people one must find out.

for so long, i'd believed love would be timeless: that love
would leap across timelines. that it could gaze pass
worldviews of time & detached from the eyes of everything.
that it could swiftly snuggle over the backbones of permanence.

but we can't grasp eternity. we can't hold into something far
in between concepts of heaven & earth. i can't spill my
ideologies far-off from yours. i can't dive on your own
perspective for me to understand you for a bit.

i can't stand myself diminishing from your point of view—
i can't cross the extending intervals between us. it's as if we
had built solid walls upon each other and there were no
superpowers nor wishing-well-wishes nor magical spells to
cast--for me to break through it.

i can't stand myself having vague memories of you pinning
down slowly into my sinking thoughts, falling & falling into oblivion.

and for someday, i wish you will remember me.

September 16, 2023
red string, von frederick