Truth Like Poetry: 5

One. How I long to talk with you.
How I long to laugh at your stories.
How I long to tell you everything.

Yet each of my days passes exactly like this...
Beginning and end, both happen without you.

Even after all these years,
I still think these thoughts today
keeping you trapped
in picture frames and flower garlands.

Two. I don't understand why life is like this. Those who understand cannot stay;
those who don't understand at all—they cling on.

You linger on my eyes-lips-cheeks.
You linger on my fingers-hands-shoulders.

When raindrops come through the window and fall on my eyes and face, I think of you...
It feels strangely wonderful.

Three. The book of poems from which
I was reading to you, finger to your lips,
lies half-open beside my knee.

You're still sleeping with your head in my lap.
Your left index finger slightly inside your mouth.
Disheveled hair scattered across your face.
Carefree, cool sleep spread across your eyes.

I was watching all this as sleep broke.
Watching and parting your hair with my fingers.

Those who are unfortunate—they see
such awakenings only in dreams.

Four. I am wearing away, I am wearing away slowly like sand.
Wearing away through the spaces between my own fingers.

It feels like I've been thirsty for years.
Restlessness is causing pain inside me.

The pain grows.
All feelings, all thoughts turn blue with ache.

Today my heart waits only for water.

Five. When we no longer understand what we must do,
most likely that's when we begin the real work.
When we no longer understand which path to take,
most likely that's when we begin the real journey.

The mind that doesn't fall into the ocean—
can it ever learn to swim?
The current that finds no obstacle—
can it ever learn to flow?

Six. People wait for them,
so they stay up nights.

People wait to hear their words,
they have to wait to hear people's words,
so they stay up nights.

No one waits for me.
I don't wait for anyone either.
All my words are with myself.
Then why do I stay up nights?

Seven. You weren't there...
The mind never wants to think this.
You won't be there...
The mind doesn't want to think that either.

Lately
everything seems false!

Yet this—that you are here...
this is perhaps
the greatest lie of all!

Eight. Go to the roof or balcony. Be alone for a moment. Close your eyes and wrap yourself in your arms. Take a long breath. I give you all the fragrance of rain-soaked flowers...

Where your heart pumps blood inside your chest, sending oxygen throughout your body—in that oxygen will be mixed all the fragrance of flowers...

In your breath after breath today, only the scent of flowers...

Nine. Everything I fear is beyond touch.

Thoughts. Words. Misunderstandings. Love. Sexuality. Wounds. Uncertainty.

I feel all these in every pore of my body. Yet try as I might, I can neither touch nor see any of them.

This is why I think the most intense existences in the world are kingdoms of non-existence.

Ten. When I remember
how you left me
and went away like this,
some sharp anger
comes and possesses
my entire body and mind,
along with infinite hurt...

The hurt keeps growing as I think of you,
as if you could see me,
or as if it would matter to you at all!

Eleven. Did it hurt? Were the words too harsh to hear!
What can I say!
I'm amazed by your patience.
I'm amazed by the way you love too.

Who can love like this!
Tolerate me, accept so many of my flaws!
Take so many of my 'no's!
I can't remember if in all these years I've said 'yes' to you ten times about anything!
Whether I've ever kept any promise to you!
Sometimes I felt I shouldn't even say I love you.
I don't know if anyone loves as dryly as I do!
And that someone could accept this for so long—
I wouldn't have understood without seeing you.

Twelve. If I had known
I would lose you like this,
then in those times
instead of sleeping
I would have looked at you
a little more.

Now I only pass time sleeping.
When I fall asleep
you come in dreams every day.

Thirteen. It's been many days
since you left.

Yet even today
except for you
this heart has learned
to love
no one else.

Fourteen. Today suddenly
the birds are silent!
As if they too have learned
you've gone away!

In the sound of this soundlessness
I count my own heartbeats.

Fifteen. That you love me—
there is no greater fortune than this.

That I don't have to live with you under the same roof—
there is no greater fortune than this.

I love you...from afar, staying far away.

Sixteen. Yes, I miss you terribly.
Miss you so much
it's exactly like when
a piece of your own existence
suddenly goes missing.

I know life still moves forward.
I also know
my life
never moves forward with you in it.

Seventeen. After many days,
that day you let me
live for some time
like myself
with a part of your existence.

Thank you.

Eighteen. If you want to know
whether I want to erase
all the pain of bygone days,
all the shame of bygone days,
all the tears of bygone days
and live—
then I'll answer:
I don't want to, if
I'd have to erase your memory
along with all that.

Nineteen. Sorrow is that silence
which comes and possesses your entire voice
at the exact moment
when you realize
the person who understood your sorrow is no more.

Twenty. I get fever often these days.
When I have fever, you come from somewhere!
These days when the fever breaks
I feel like crying terribly.

I don't need my health,
I only need you.