We are the Home We Build | Poetry Breakdown

We dream of traversing the unknown,
to lay our memories upon them and being able to call them ours. 
We dream of floor to ceiling bookshelves,
sculpted seats suited for comfortable silences,
sunlight streaming and reaching every dark corner. 
We dream of erupting joyous giggles and thumping feet
exploring the vast rooms throughout the home
hand in hand in hand in hand,
a continuation of generational love. 

And I cannot wait for the day when blisters form
on our palms from hammering each nail one by one,
until our house becomes a home. 

You, my darling, are my rock.
You make my heart beat and my blood rush.
My lungs expand with your breath of fresh air. 
You make my words come alive –
my muse, my ink, my light. 
You are my home – 
your welcoming arms, 
your sturdy foundation,
and the safest I’ve felt compared to anywhere else –
your rhythmic, passionate, soulful heart. 

To Those I Love and Hate | Poetry Breakdown

To those I love and to those I hate:
you occupy different regions of my mind
with your movements, speech, and potential thoughts.
Quite frankly, I don’t see any difference at this rate.

I am becoming you.
And yet, you still remain yourself.
Why does it have to be this way?

Secret to Love | Poetry Breakdown

Neither you nor I hold the secrets to true love,
but I do know what love means when I’m with you.

Love is the quick sway of your hips when you spot me
in the crowd & hurry to greet me.
My arms are the missing spaces for your embrace –
you fall so easily in them and our hearts synchronize.

When I’m with you, peace falls over my rapid heartbeat,
cooling it until it whispers like a babbling creek and yet
our love is a thundering waterfall.

Rather than the world being too loud & bustling,
boredom becomes a blessing with you.
The ship could be sinking & The Earth imploding,
but I feel the safest with you.

Love is the ringing of your laughter, the joy in your heart,
and the steadiness in your eyes despite the insecurities this world carries.
You carry me & together we traverse the rocky roads.

Of all the questions circumnavigating our mere existence;
love is no mysterious secret with you.

Mismatched Set | Poetry Breakdown

 

Sometimes I think about how I had all these mismatched pots and pans
where one pan whose claim to being non-stick, wore off with age,
where one pot’s handle was chipped off leaving hot metal exposed,
where one lid never seemed to find the right pot or pan as a home.
I remembered all the rummaging that slowly dwindled my motivation
as I tried to find a pot or a pan to match the dish I was trying to make.
Either the pasta would barely fit in the small saucepan
or there was too much room for “improvements” or burns as my grandmother called it in the sauté pan.

But the aromas that arose from my mismatched set
drew motivation out of sadness,
steeped peace out of resentment,
simmered love out of anxiety.
Just as how mismatched my pots and pans were
oftentimes collected through different occasions,
you saw me as a whole.
You were able to see me for me
instead of the blunders and blemishes
that appear on my surface.

A Tug on My Heart | Poetry Breakdown

From the moment I set my eyes on you,
to the words I spoke to you last night,
there still remains a tug in my heart
that has captivated and intrigued me from the beginning.

Your ability to feel so deeply and so painfully
matched my unshakable desire to reach out to anyone and everyone.
I don’t know anyone who wanted to hide from his goodness
as much as you. Someone who refused to take name to his
good intentions because of how the world has corrupted everyone else.
I felt it quake in my soul,
whispering that I must aid and protect this man.

Your drive to accomplish and grow,
how you pushed, how you moved, how you made sure you made it
even though it might mean giving it all away.
I saw this fire within you and saw the scorch marks
from how everyone who tried to extinguish it and
gently offered oil and wood ensuring that no one puts it out again.

Despite how far you reached, you always made sure you came back to me
and made sure my heart was thoroughly being protected
with your gentle hands and kind eyes.
No words are needed to express the deepness we feel for each other
because our hearts our tugging with each other, for each other.

Love Song | Poetry Breakdown

You know those songs and how they have the ability
to make you fall in love with life?
No, not those sexy songs that sings about all the curves of the body,
not the songs that tell you to drop it low,
or the songs that talk about last night
but the songs that empower you from the inside
of your soul and prove to you that you’re actually
better than you think you are.
That you’re invincible and an apocalypse cannot stop you,
that you can outrun the demons chasing you.
And that there is joy radiating from every corner of your heart.

And that’s how you make me feel:
like we’re revolving around an infinite love song.

Float Away With Me | Quick Piece

They said good-bye and hung up, their minds filled with floating love words and comforting thoughts. It took so long to get the one they loved and now it became an utter breeze – just pure happiness floating along with thoughts and emotions. Time felt abstract, motion was slowed, and everything seemed brighter. They swore they weren’t being delusional, overlooking anything that could potentially spell out danger by smothering it with love. Their minds were clear as it could ever be and to make it better, they had a companion to walk with. She understood that days like this are to be savored and appreciated because there will definitely be rocky times where love feels like a sharp dagger. Those days don’t mean the end; a single argument shouldn’t spell out the inevitable end. It would just mean that their structures are being reinforced so that any weaknesses should be gently fixed together. He felt a flutter in his heart and admired how lucky he was to have someone who could balance him out so perfectly. He was the driving force, but she made sure that he didn’t run off too far and kept him grounded. What luck! What beauty and grace! He picked his phone back up and dialed her number again. It only took one ring for him to hear her voice again. “Couldn’t sleep?” her voice came through, making him smile in the dark. “No, I just missed your voice.” he whispered.

The Shape of Today | Poetry Breakdown

Hello everyone!

I hope you had a wonderful and warm Christmas!

The Shape of Today

I think about your past a lot, mainly about
the ones you’ve held in your arms and whispered
precious secrets into their ears.
Their breaths would catch and they would vow,
“I will never be like that.”
Lo and behold, years later you hold broken vows
and a shattered conscience.

I think about my past a lot, mainly about my primitive years
and my yearning for the comfort and the extravagant at the same time.
I would happily say “I’m doing well!”
when I wonder how much pain I can give to myself before I disappear.
I’ve felt the wounds, the sharp stabbing pain and I vowed,
“No one shall ever feel this again.”

All around us, people are loudly declaring their love for one another
with long, scrolling paragraphs on Instagram and a shining ring
nestled inside a velvet box.
Singers belt out a catchy tune about the sexy bod they saw at the club
and the desire to feel all the curves and edges.
But the next thing we know, relationship statuses rock and roll
and papers start getting signed.
Now singers’ top charts are the ones warning about people
who will only toss you a lure and nothing else.

I think about our future a lot and whether or not we even deserve
to be conjoined in our or together.
Would our hands continue to be clasped or am I going to join the list of broken vows?
As much as I long for a title to swaddle myself in,
we would only end up falling away into a void
of more brokenness because of
the very things that broke us
now shape us today.

This poem is about a relationship I’m involved in. Talking about my life isn’t something I’m comfortable with, but I love still to write. To me, writing helps guide me through the challenging points in my life, especially with organizing my thoughts. I’m perfectly capable of writing a piece that romanticizes all the wonderful moments of my life, but I prefer to be honest with you and myself. And this relationship is a challenging one not because of the person, but because of the circumstances that surround us.

I had originally titled this piece to be “Letters to my lover” because I wanted it to seem like I was speaking directly to him. Yes, I don’t talk very flowery, but it was supposed to contain nuances where only we would understand, but still be relatable to you (the reader). The first stanza is about his past relationships and the second stanza is about my past with all my doubts.

The third stanza is a change in pace, like a step backwards. It’s supposed to have an envious tone in it because in my complicated situation, people are having idealistic relationships, which is something that we crave for, but we know what we’re doing is for the best of us as individuals and us as a whole. And the fourth stanza is going back and wondering about the future, but having an understanding where you can’t change the past, but you just move forward with it.

Let me know if you’re in a similar situation!

Thanks for reading!

Alice

Final Words | Quick Piece

The phone rang and I reached over to grab it so fast that I nearly fell out of my chair. “Hello?” I answered, but all I heard was a loud, high-pitched tone. “Damn!” I pulled the phone away from my ear. “What the hell-“ I was cut off when a smooth female voice started to speak. “Emergency. This is a worldwide emergency. All beings are in danger due to imminent comet approaching in 6 hours.” I scoffed. This is probably a prank call from a bored 12 year old. “This is not a joke.” the voice continued. “Comet will make a direct hit in 6 hours. Please stay calm and stay with your loved ones. Further information can be found online through all news channels and keep updated through Twitter, Facebook and Instagram.” My hands began to shake slightly. I could’ve imagined it, but the final words that came from my phone will always haunt me. “You have one life and it’s going to end soon. Make the most of it.” And with a final click, the voice was gone.

For the first hour, my phone continued to ring off the hook as I sat still and motionless in front of my TV with my laptop quietly heating up on my lap. Messages flooded into my inbox from bosses, old lovers and high school classmates saying that I was a great worker, apologies with reasons I don’t recall and an onslaught of memories that I had long filed away. As I watched the reporter talk about the axis and momentum of the comet, a part of me wanted to believe that it was all a hoax. The government wanted everyone to stop complaining and pay more mind to them or maybe it was a rich guy’s  sad idea of teaching everyone gratitude. For all I know, the comet could even miss. I couldn’t accept that six hours was all I was going to get. Yet, I continued to diligently answer each call, reassuring, crying and yelling with everyone. What else can I do?

For the next hour, I wandered the street and tried my best not to lose my faith in humanity. Broken glass lay strewn all over the ground, couples straight up naked in the middle of the road while cars honked endlessly at them. Discounts filled stores still with clothes still swinging, but stores with bold red letters screamed, “Take it all! It doesn’t matter anyways!” with things like novelty garbage pails gone within minutes — one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. There was no point in driving because of the amount of people wandering the streets, carefree and carelessly. It was like the illusion of safety was popped and what we were left was who were truly were. By now, my phone had generally quieted down, so I was surprised when I received a call from an unknown number. “Hello?” I answered, hoping it was the same cool voice from 3 hours ago taking everything back. “Hello?” No one responded. I tried a third time. “Hello? Is anyone there? The world is ending and I don’t want to be that jerk that hangs up on you. For all I know, you might be someone pretty important who needs company.” There was a sigh on the phone and a voice so small and fragile that I had to lean in to hear. “I love you. You were the first person I thought of when the mess of the world started to unravel because to me, you are the calamity and color of the world.” A final click ended the call. The final words comforted my soul and I walked down the street under the rapidly deteriorating and fearfully raw world, their screams lifting up to meet the incoming comet.

Mountaintop Sunrise | Quick Piece

Image taken by me at Acadia National Park — 8/9/16 4:46am

The bus finally pulled up to the station and the familiar excitement started settling in. I looked around the station and saw families eager to go on their first trip with bulging suitcases and children carrying their favorite stuffed friend to share their new adventures with. I saw young couples, tugging at each other’s hands ­— their private excitement and yearning for one another evident in just a small gesture. I saw people like me, old and experienced, but still carrying around their young soul and an undying curiosity to see and feel all corners of the world for themselves. I just can’t explain this sensation. It’s as if the places I go to will forever carry a part of my soul once I set foot upon it — a magical and sweet sensation.

We boarded the bus and I settled into a seat near the front. I checked my phone to see if we were still on schedule and I scrolled through my messages to see if there was anything from her. Perhaps a departing good-bye and well wishing or a how are you, but the last message I received from her was from three weeks ago. A child on the back of the bus shouted, “Mom! I need to pee!” I smiled to myself before putting in my headphones and forgetting everything that had happened three weeks ago.

“Why can’t you ever listen?” she shouted, tears brimming her eyes. I reached for her hand. I wanted her close. I wanted to feel her heart beating against mine, but she turned away. “Gabe, please! Now is not the time! Can’t you see that we aren’t going to be forever unless you get it together?” My mouth ran dry and my hands started to sweat. She sighed and collapsed into the chair, exhausted from the emotional turn of events. I knelt in front of her and whispered, “Melly, dear. I’m sorry.” My head was filled with cotton. Nothing I wanted to say, nothing I wanted to mean was properly forming into words. Before I could say anything else, she rebounded and said, “No, don’t. You say this every single time, but we always end up back into this position. I’ll be crying and you’ll be on your knees begging. I’ve had enough.” The next thing I knew, I was watching her pull out of my driveway, every single part within me felt broken and shattered.

The bus rumbled to a stop just as my song finished, an echoing chord fading into the distance. I opened my eyes to see a brilliant sunset stretching across the wide horizon. The bus was hauntingly silent with no previous indication that there were screaming children and chattering friends. We had the time to stretch and get a snack before we had to be back on the road again. I sauntered into the convenience store. The sudden bright lights and colorful snacks filled my field of vision and it felt like I was in one of my dreams. Unaware of where we were, but still knowing that we had some ways to go, I thrived in the change of pace. I picked up a couple snacks before heading back to the bus where I caught glimpses of people deep in their slumber.

For the first couple of days, my heart wouldn’t stop aching. My Google search history was filled with medical inquiries to relationship advice columns, but the only help I wanted was from Melly. My phone was quiet and it haunted me. I spent hours scrolling through the days when our minds were consumed with each other. I ran through everything that lead up to it and tried to figure out what had happened, but the only conclusion that I could arrive at was that I was the cause. I didn’t want to see her curled up on her bed, eyes red from crying yet somehow, an image of myself reflected what would be of her.

In the early hours of the morning, we arrived. We dragged our aching bodies out of our seats and into the cold morning air, picked up our bags and headed into the station. Parents cradled their kids in their arms, greeting me with a simple nod of unifying tiredness. Couples leaned against each other’s shoulders still maintaining how they were together on the bus. I chuckled to myself, Melly wouldn’t mind the early hours, yet I would be the one sleeping. I sighed and looked up at the sky, just starting to blossom in the day’s radiance. It seems like in the early hours of the day, human nature naturally unifies together as a subtle acknowledgement to the simplicities of life.

A week and a half later, the sadness only took up half of my mind and I had been able to settle on what had happened. My restlessness was evident because when Melly and I were still together, we itched to travel. We went on a couple of trips around the state, seeing natural beauties or creations manifested by humanity. I remembered that we wanted to go to the top of the mountains, wake up at an obscene hour in the morning and watch the sunrise, but our schedules constantly conflicted, a telltale sign of what’s to happen. Every time we went somewhere, Melly’s constant hunger for brighter vitality in the world was never filled. She wanted more and I could never fulfill it. It wasn’t until then did I realize that I also carried an undying desire to feel the world even when it was raw and bleeding. I leaped out of bed; pulled out my laptop simultaneously closing the tabs I had opened for instant gratification and searched “most beautiful location for sunrise”.

I felt the wind in my face and the tiredness coursing through my body, but I was elated. I finally made it. My hand grazed my phone, but I stopped myself. Slowly, but surely, the sun erupted from its hiding place and reached its fingers to touch all corners of the Earth coloring the deepest and darkest corners. I nearly leaped for joy as I basked in the emerging colors and welcomed the new day. People started to pose in front of this reoccurring beauty and I found myself sneaking a couple pictures for myself. Like a dream, I heard my name being called out in the distance in a voice that was familiar to my soul.

Submitted to Lascaux Review – Flash Fiction Contest