It’s like I offered myself on a silver platter, holding all golden thoughts
It wasn’t until I was close that you saw the tarnish and scratches
You immediately wanted to send it in for cleaning and touch-ups
Was it so dull that you couldn’t see your own reflection in the silver shine?
Or was that your method of dissociating your own harsh blemishes
But some things can’t be touched up and some things remain bent,
even if they were never broken to begin with

Do you remember what you look like in the mirror?
Perhaps you don’t, because you love to call the kettle black
I embraced that darkness a long time ago,
But you are still at the edge of the encroaching shadow-
a flashlight shaking in your hand for fear of self-awareness
I pray for that day you shine that light on your own red hands
and see the word “duplicity” scrawled across your palm
I think you forget you ever wrote the reminder,
or it was your second personality who got the memo

The persona you choose to put on seems to overlook their own shortcomings
as you love to rewrite rules for lives that aren’t yours to live
I swear when you see me, your skin itches with unrelenting anxieties
I feel like you look at me as you would look at an unsolved jigsaw puzzle
You so frantically want to find all the missing pieces to see the perfect picture
I am so sorry but all of those tiny puzzle pieces were lost so long ago
but don’t you dare try to jam in new ones that don’t fit because mine is vintage

There are real tears in the cardboard and memories in each warped corner
What you can now buy in bulk to make your scenery look historical,
is nothing but a plastic collectors replica of those who know that reality
The reality of being held in various hands, in different places at different ages
each individual seeing who can play this puzzle through the fastest
Although no one has taken the time to decipher the full enigma of this heart
And my heart is not a mirror, nor a puzzle, and you can’t find yourself in me
You can’t expect to just trace the lines on a map and claim you’ve traveled those roads
Because roads less traveled are hard to find and they happen to detail my skin
It’s unfortunate that you’d rather focus on how unpaved trails have thorns and nettles
Rather than how bewildering and humbling it can be to get lost in the woods


Red Thread Heart

I wonder about you sometimes. I worry even more. I hope you are drinking water and eating and sleeping okay. I hope you still enjoy walks outside and carry a compassion for small animals. I wish you the best while you carry on in this world without my hand in yours.

I don’t know why we were so drawn together, like two broken magnets that were so strong in their connection but so weak in the execution. I know each fortune told in both of your palms though I have never ran my hands over them.

But we still stare at the same moon and breathe the same air. Sometimes that has to be just…enough.

We have these red strings that are like crumb trails to those that matter most in our life. But I don’t imagine there to be only one. Like veins in our body, they reach far and many to our vital organs. Our vital players on this chessboard of life.

I am grateful for you, but I am grateful from this distance. I will tie a balloon to the end of your red thread, and set you free among the stars. You can choose to guide me when I’m lost, but never lose track of your own constellation that holds you close to the moon.