my dagger, my wound

 

13 years later

 

it’s almost been ten years

 

I’m sorry, and I’ll be sorry for the rest of my life

And when I have the audacity to quietly cry about it, it’ll just me a little secret between me, myself and I. 

 a dream I always dreamed but never dreamed I would have

of being able to once again have a time to feel so much my body is no longer mine again, then mine, then out of mine, slipping in and out of possession of everything grounded and earthly and slipping out of reality living only high on emotions 

i sang for you and felt so exposed as if everyone could see 

in front of everyone but nobody could ever know, no one could ever know 

 

hôm nay thời gian ướt 

trơn quá

trôi vào tên một người 

không nhớ tới tôi 

nơi trong miệng người ta giữ 

tên mình nằm thật êm 

cho những kẻ chỉ biết ghét mình

không nhận ra âm thanh đấy nữa

tôi đặt ký gửi tên mình

giữa lưỡi và vòm miệng anh 

nơi tôi từng đến 

bậc thềm trước cửa nhà 

một hai lần hôn say

ngấu nghiến 

cửa sắt đang kéo xuống rồi

trên nhà mọi người còn chưa ngủ

hai phút nữa

để tôi giữ nốt một lần hôn thôi

nuốt chậm vào chi tiết tiếp đây

để bảy năm sau vô tình nghĩ đến. 

01.14 

8.11.2020

--

that night I had been away for months. You met me at the airport just outside international arrivals, I flew and our mouths met. Our teeth met, our tongues. There were many around brimming with anticipation waiting to meet their loved ones. And you me. 

you rolled both my luggage’s for the taxi, straight to the motel we normally rent by the hour in summer. I met you on the bed, in the shower, on the desk. I missed you so much I couldn’t tear an inch of my skin from yours, asking if tonight you could come in me, stay in me. Sleep in me, wake in me. 

To make up for times lost, while I am here but away already. 

--

fuck, I’m now stuck back flat

against the bed but nowhere to go 

the only way out is tears and so, so, so

so I close my eyes and run to

a different strand of time when we

existed

through multiples on stairways of fibre cables running straight

and sideways

sliding horizontally into the past 

on to an msn window where you lean backwards on a couch feet up face away

typing to me at midnight, 

maybe later I’m not quite sure anymore 

a glossy window sits neatly on a matte grey laptop 

lying on a marble floor, hiding

illuminated by the screen and only your words, only your words, only yours 

my name kept safe only

yours and us and yours and mine and us

batting words back and forth only us cracking jokes at 15 and 18 there was no one but us only

us

Malta 13 September 2019 01:05

hôm nay soạn lại email, em giật mình không ngờ tim mình từng đủ chỗ để yêu nhiều
đến thế

"lúc nào em cũng muốn anh ở đây
em ở đâu em cũng muốn anh ở đây."

11.7.2010