I used to sit and dream of these moments.
I used to light cigarettes in hopes that the smoke would push my memories of you deeper into the abyss. But I could still feel them, lingering there like the faintest whisper of my name. I prayed—prayed to whatever was worth praying to.
I was a fool for you.
But heartbreak makes for good poetry material.
There is no time to grieve.
Life keeps going no matter how slowly you breathe, no matter how long you stare at those pictures: the ones of us holding hands, the ones of us smiling, the ones of you pretending you were in love.
I hate thinking about the time that has passed. Not because I dread the memories, but because they were all too sweet. Four years is a long time.
Four years is an eternity in the blink of an eye, it’s the moment your lips meet mine,
it’s every breath I could not breathe.
Poetry by Karen J. Wang
2 January 2016
Strength does not feel like iron bars growing in the place of soft flesh.
She’s more like shallow breaths and balmy temples.
Show me strength disguised in a cape and shield,
And I’ll show you faint and dark scars across my chest.
Strength strikes with a vengeance at night.
She is crippling, abusive, and so damn heavy.
Dry throat and fuzzy head, I’ve grown an interest in ceiling fans and carpet.
Strength sings you to sleep at night with the pattering of tears on the pillow
and shakes you awake at odd hours just to scream, “You Are Alone”.
People are talking and I can’t hear a word they’re saying,
So I count the beats of my heart with the ticking of the clock in the other room.
Strength feels like forgiveness on the tip of your tongue
held back by memories too painful to recall.
But I’ll play them over and over and over until my vision blurs
and even your name sounds foreign in my voice.
Strength does not feel like “I’m my own superhero”,
She’s more like silent screams and tears hotter than my bath water.