if you were a map

by 02:47 0 comments
half a lost map, 
incomplete lines dotted across the edges
of places I’ve never been to before, 
places that remind me of the smell of home, 
I wish I could go back
to moments I never had,
and memories I never made,
words I never wrote, 
words I should have. 

I forget how to spell half the metaphors,
half a heartbeat beats until the end
of my quotation marks, 
only in the words I say, 
a little more me in the words I don’t. 
I follow the directions
that I got lost on last time, 
it’s okay to forget your way more than once, 
but is it still forgetting if you remember 
to follow the directions that’ll make you 
forget where you’re coming from
and where you’re going?

would you still call it a map
if you read a torn part of it upside down
and it reminded you of all the places 
that you thought you’d visit, 
but didn’t,
because you couldn’t find all the pieces 
of the puzzle? 
you’re a puzzle, 
you’re a mystery on some days 
and an empty letter on others,
when I can’t figure out what name to call you with, 
the syllables tumbling off my tongue,
their meaning to me,
an incomplete phrase that I could never utter, 
half of your heartbeat 
stuck in your throat, 
so much to say, 
so much that you can’t. 

you write letters on maps now,
maps that you can’t read, 
maps that you follow to get lost, 
directions that beat like your heart, 
like the sound of my laughter, 
without yours,
the last time you spoke the words you wanted to, 
you’d be fine, 
you utter, 
and again 
and again,
before you follow your map, 
a little doom, 
a little lost
and a lot like the directions you never follow, 
like the ones you should. 

you tear the rest of the map away, 
half a sketch in two parts, 
half a word, 
half a world, 
and you. 
you’d carve your own directions, 
veins that you call directions, 
a heartbeat that beats when you’re lost, 
on some days, 
you’re a world in yourself, 
and on others, 
half an empty torn map.  

_if you were a map


National Poetry Writing Month, Day 5. 


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