The resplendent wheels move in sync with my keys.
I know how it feels to be hurt.I know how it feels to be so close to something and lose it in a moment.I know how it feels to lose the person you thought was the only person that understood you.I’m not being cliche here, but I know how it feels to feel someone knows you for you.I know how it feels to want to leave the planet or leave school or leave your home.I know how it feels to have a desire for something for so long and not get it.I know how it feels to have people put on a facade and to wear faux faces.I know how it feels to feel music, to hear a cadence of all the notes float within you at the saddest times.I know how it feels to want.I know how it feels to create,to innovate,to win.I know how it feels to fall,to be criticized.I know how it feels to think to love someone and i know how it feels to lust and i do know how it feels to be in infatuation.I know how it feels to be used.I know how it feels to be in a room of colour and feel like sepia.
This is not a piece on self-pity.
My poetry is my biggest weapon but my imagination seems to be even bigger.I can imagine that i’m the only one in a room.I can imagine to soar.I can imagine to be ‘Asian’ at the piano and not know how to play any nursery rhymes.I can imagine being sad by writing about it,letting my blue ink dance around my wet paper.I can imagine being me but not knowing how i am me.I can imagine caesura.
This is not a piece on philosophy.
She let her guard off.She promised not to.She promised not to love once more but she did.She promised not to fear because fear is a mindset but she was scared of her contemporaries,not scared of them but for them.She promised not to look at him but she did.She promised not to ask him for anything,not to message him,not to mention him-you know that she did.She promised not to lie but she did.She promised not to be intimate but she did because she realized that even when she didn’t plan to,someone came.She promised to stay away from any negative energy but sometimes she was negative.
This is not a piece on making mistakes.
So what is this piece about?
To be honest,i have no idea.I was hurt by something and someone so i wrote about it.I wrote about how i felt and hid how i wanted to feel.I abandoned the metaphors and simile and the ‘deep’ phrases and chose to stick to simple language so my words say little but mean more than the amount of letters.Today,i wrote about the clouds and the sky and how i once said the clouds were blue and how i once uttered something stupid and how i once doubted someone’s ability and how i once saw someone and misread them because in the life we live,your appearance is given a name(the name being the personality that people believe you should have)Safe assumptions is what i like to call it.The irony is that their deadly.I wrote about how the black race is treated unfairly because of laws that view life as death but soon,with the power of social media,and the power of being black itself and the power writing and photography have.Wait.What power?It’s starting to sound like propaganda.I wrote about how warm your hands were and how warm i felt being cuddled.
I love myself even more as i write.But how does one love thyself or forsake his or her principles for something temporary?
The piano is still broken.The chords don’t sound right.The arpeggios are broken.
But i’m fixing the piano or trying to even when the pianist abandoned me.