Peekaboo

I have visited you for months on a loop. You were waiting for me inside a secret trap door inside my mind. Nobody knew how to forge a hidden pathway to your compartment, except for me, and that was devine because we are safe together. Always were.

We never used words, it was not necessary with us, you spoke my silence language and I understood the meaning of your sighs. You were my home and I was your security blanket inside that tiny space of invisibility. 

However, there was a code that we’d agreed to follow every time we met to ensure the safety of our union. But one day the others found out about us and the code was broken.

With that, you migrated from my mind to another and we no longer saw each other. 

Sometimes I tell myself that there is a thin line connecting my heart to yours and I’ll always find you, like that red string theory. (Do you know it?)

A year ago, I tried to locate your whereabouts, I did not succeed, but I left you a message in our hideaway, because we're good at this game.

I get lost and you find me.

The Other Side

They told me that I used to exist happily on my body until a tumor on my left shoulder with the size of a walnut kept growing day by day resembling  a second head carried through a protruding extension of my skin holding identical set of eyes, nostrils, cheeks and mouth.

I didn’t know what to expect at the time, so I kept my tumor/head secret from everyone else and hid it beneath a large cloth next to my left ear thinking that it would eventually go away and shrink to its normal size.

One day as I stared at my unwanted companion, I noticed that it murmurs nonsense in unknown language to me. I couldn’t distinguish the words but later I realized that it wants to replace me entirely and take over my body.

I agreed to surrender right away and start over on a new body to recreate our memories.

Ever since then I’ve become a thousand times lighter but I’m not sure that I want to bring back any of our memories, I’m completely free..

Punchline

You’re bitter in my mouth, love. 

I can almost taste apathy on the back of my tongue long after watching your first words forming in the space between.

I pondered/struggled/writhed with anguish to gather my scattered selves and reach my unsung melodies of terror and solitude to tell you that it’s sunny, love. 

And that although it’s the middle of January and we’re said to hit the climate climax of the season but I don’t feel anything. In fact, I did not hear a single cold wind hitting my back.

Denial is a river in my brain cells, refusing to utter the syllables out loud in your presence.

What’s Latin for “Imissedyou”?

How do you spell “whole” again?

Where’s your moon today?

When I found my voice, I awoke.