I find home in stained ties

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When people ask me if I’m okay, 
I whisper that I am,
In silences louder than my sentences;
I’m drinking enough water,
I’m having my meals on time,
I’m walking on roads barefoot,
In the middle of the night,
shouting your name to the stars,
the constellations shout back. 
I’ve been writing letters,
on my heartbeat, 
conversations with the sunsets,
I run; 
my thoughts spinning around in my head; 
I have no chill; 
I play my ukulele with injured fingers,
the strings piercing through my veins,
reminding me of footsteps out the door, 
that feel like home, 
I’m in the middle of a supermarket, 
buying toothpaste, 
just because I want to, 
At 2am, 
I have 14 boxes of toothpaste at home, 
I buy mint,
and vegetables that I don’t eat,
Three bottles of juice,
I ask them for a bill,
So when you ask me if I’m okay,
I show you a black and white printout, 
saying that I am, 
Instead of letters on my tongue, 
that I could never utter,

there’s rhythm in the way I switch channels on the TV, 
It’s 3am and I cannot sleep, 
because the tick tock of the clock
in your room, 
3746 miles away, 
2 metres away, 
reminds me of the song I never wrote, 
I’m here
I’m okay, 
when it’s 4am and I’m riding my bicycle on a highway
that leads me to nowhere, 
nowhere I know, 
I’ve never been good with directions, 
except when I’m ice skating 
on broken water, 
and again, 
and again, 
I’m pretty good at it. 
I bought a rug for my room, 
I smiled at the shopkeeper, 
he asked me how I’m doing too, 
I laughed a little, 
and shook my hand, 
I can’t lie to multiple people at once.

It’s 5am 
and I’m checking facebook, 
reading our conversations, 
looking for an escape within the words
you never wrote, 
I can’t find the words you never wrote, 
only the ones you never meant. 
I can’t escape, 

It’s 6am and I’m on my roof, 
counting seconds to the next sunrise, 
I’ve written a letter to the moon, 
the crescent owns my heart, 
A heart that beats, 
till the next sunrise, 
I think of the horizons, 
and how empty they really are, 
the oceans never really meet the sun, do they? 
relentless love, 
that’s what it is, 

It’s 7am, 
I keep looking for toothpaste, 
I threw 15 boxes of it outside, 
I can’t find them anymore, 
I’m late for work, 
I spill coffee on my favourite tie, 
It feels a lot like home now, 
I make more coffee, 
and leave for work wearing the same tie, 

it’s 8am now, 
and I’m in the metro, 
counting the number of stations
until I freak out, 
I’m wearing a stained tie to work.

It’s 9am, 
I’m thinking of you
as my hands tremble, 
typing words on my laptop, 
they ask me if I’m okay, 
I whisper that I am, 
In silences louder than my sentences
I clutch my stained tie
a little tighter
and laugh to myself,
I’ll be fine. 

_I find home in stained ties.

National Poetry Writing Month, Day 8


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