Not easy to state the change you made in me.
When my thoughts come in waves they break on the page.
When I say I see stars my eyes are already closed.
When I say I am blind I am merely sighing into the sight you gave me.
I never was good at articulating myself; my cardboard tongue,
Catching on the back of my teeth,
The words coming out in the form of a language I have not intended to speak.
Even the lamest fool smiles into his jester’s cloak-
The inevitable failure of my attempts to speak– sweaty palms and trembling lips.
I never was good at forming sentences that work in black-and-white,
weaving riddles into metaphors that act as safety barriers;
walls of words that tell you everything whilst giving away nothing at all.
And who is the fool now who laps up the circled spotlight,
following his shadow and laughing at blank faces that
knit their brows in patient confusion, when really,
the only joke is the one I caught from you.
It always comes back to you.
I never was good at hiding my feelings; staining my sleeves
with the pieces of my heart that I cough up involuntarily,
claiming I’m fine when the hole in my chest is leaking.
I never would have imagined that falling down the rabbit hole
meant such a long way to fall.
I never was good at endings; leaving behind
empty goodbyes and forgetting my face in mirrors.
I couldn’t have said goodbye to you,
the nonchalant excuses poised on your lips
waiting to close the door behind me with a not so shaky sigh of relief.
I wouldn’t have minded so much if I hadn’t been bound to you–
Memories in the form of iron shackles and chains at my ankles;
I’m never going to forget.
Spotlights dance over stagnant features,
losing their shape amongst violent shadows–
I could kill myself if not for the satisfaction your name on bloody tongues brings.
If I ever forget the meaning of this prose,
losing myself amongst a littering of words,
A thesaurus of thoughts that destroy the illusionary figure of the lonely jester;
The lights growing dim with flickers–
Don’t even say my name.