This poem is inspired by Call Me By Your Name & was written with Visions of Gideon playing in the background.
If Heaven is built on white lies,
then let me believe for the last time
that your breath can run into mine,
giddy with love, you and me, likewise.
But why is it that every time our lips
collide, I can’t taste anything beyond
the quiet? Tell me, when will the thought
of you stop clouding these closed eyes?
Don’t forget the rain and wistful smiles.
Hey love, am I still allowed to call you
so? I suppose names were never our own,
gifted to us so our entirety can
be condensed into palpable syllables,
rolled over the tongue, bitten into and
chewed on until the flavour fades
or tastes suddenly change.
(Why did you change, or did I?)
I guess I thought I would be okay but time
reminded me of its unpredictable path
from now until tomorrow, here I am again.
Silence stretching out as long as a
sleepless night, and I am unlearning desire,
like feeling itself is a bad habit, brea
king words until they lose all meaning,
writing about you until I forget the way
I used to whisper – your name.
I could hear in his voice
the conviction of youth
and I wonder if mine
was wasted on a fool
who has chewed down flesh
and bone to leave a terrined-heart
dished out, cold.
Do boys like to wear suits and
swirl wine, slice through
boundaries like butter
because they think that anything
in the world can be bought by paper,
and if not, they’ll burn
it down instead?
They wear metal on wrist
and hold metal in hand,
thinking they were born
as natural protagonists, except
sometimes forests are not yours
to cut down or even explore,
who gave you permission
to scale these walls?
she was never yours to save.
Now, I’m not saying women
are any better at sorting through
this tangled ball of fate and quick
mistakes, but I have always envied
the rain for how it melts into waterfalls
and I could always trust the ocean
to cleanse any small cut or graze.
she feels safe,
maybe soon the hesitation
once upon a time
she hardly remembers,
the girl with tumble weed hair
and rose petal lips
was not afraid of heartbreak.
she kept her head held high
so she could learn
from birds in the sky
how to gently unfurl
the delicate wings encasing
a heart three-sizes too big
for her hope-filled chest
watch her as she breathes in
the meadow-scented winds.
we are missing
and I no longer remember
where I misplaced us
perhaps our hearts
sunk to the bottom of the
Tasman sea when I moved
away from home?
I thought if I packed my bags
full of photos and love notes
I could make a scrapbook of
our story but I guess
scraps are just the meaningless
edges of what I clung onto
too tightly and torn too carelessly
and these tears cannot be mended
just wiped away.
we are all flesh and no soul built weak dreaming of going to sea so the waves may wash away the minutiae not so we can ‘find ourselves’ but to just be ourselves won’t you join me, before the beckoning of the earth takes hold?
you see, the ocean is no place to venture alone I’ll need you to be there to steer, paddle or shout – “Land Ahoy!” as you run about distracting us from the starless nights when we can’t help but wonder if the moon pulls the tides of fate or if we’ll have to find our own way in this cold and empty place
unfortunately, even those at sea fear inevitability that, my love, includes you and me one day the monsters will drag us to the murky depths of abyss but right now our fragile bones are overcome by the silent song of the salt-stained breeze they move because they know the music of life and you are enough of an excuse for another night on this rickety boat even though we’re scared? we’re here
it was 491 days later before something shifted in the atmosphere rolling eyes and loud sighs displaced indestructible sea floors sharp tongues like whips cut masts of pride torrents of heavy words sunk ships and a tsunami of sky-high idealisations couldn’t hide the realisation that it hurts to love with a washed up heart darling, it was your voice, not the endless, breathless siren’s song that reminded me both the ocean and tears were not as beautiful as I imagined I suppose adventures don’t make for smooth sailing but look, the sun is rising and if you still dare to brave the scorching days and relentless rain
won’t you please
kiss my bruises away and hold me when phantom pain haunts the moon-lit night?
the waves are calling,
let’s not keep the ocean waiting.