Wondering

Friendship.

It's what we have

So much

So little

And I'm over

What never was

What almost were

What could not be

At least in theory.

So why is it

That when I close my eyes

Hide inside

And touch the air

It is you

I think of?

Nonsense poem

Sugarcoated super fluid
Insuficient gasoline druid
None of us can understand
The dreamy eye of pinecone brand.

You start out by using limes
Some seconds later; seven dimes
In this case, like other times,
A nonsense poem of random rhymes.

Sleepless

Thinking, waiting, gentle dream
A weave of satin, not a seam
I promise to try to be there

In the darkness of the night
Though hour late, no sleep in sight
I wonder: Do you even care?

For me

Okay, so you miss her
But you know, the sun's shining,
Your focus is all wrong
For fuck's sake, stop whining!

Bortkopplad

Uppriven?
Nej, men uppgiven
För allt jag väntar på
Är inte ens
"Älskar"
Men kanske
"Saknar"
Fast egentligen bara
"Hej"

Can't help

Tranquil dream in summer rain
I long for you and go insane
But as I walk down Lover's Lane
I can't help fearing
It's all in vain.

It's raining

And right now
Might be the right time
To say you miss me.

Jag vill skriva till dig

Men mina ord
Blir allt mer desperata
I väntan på din uppmärksamhet
Och jag önskar
Att det var enklare.

Time: 2 AM. Location: Bedroom floor. Feeling: Illogical panic

The pain is instant, and I almost immediately fall to the floor to enter the foetal position. My chest feels as if it's burning, a sharp, continuing sting gripping my solar plexus. Is this it? The end? A few months of longing, a couple of meetings and then we are no longer? If "we" ever were, that is, because our relationship never really fulfilled the definitions. You liked me, and I know I loved you, love you, but we never were boyfriend and girlfriend. Something always got in the way; the university, a job interview, work, Christmas, travel… Time never came to follow my heart, and you never seemed sure on what your heart wanted. And now… Are we out of chances?

A couple of tears run down my cheek as I hyperventilate on the floor. My soul screams, even though I know that for now it's all a matter of interpretation. You didn't say "love", nor did you say that you kissed someone. You did not use the word romantic; I am the one that read that into your poetic description. All you did was writing about a situation, and dedicate it to a couple of initials. Followed by a heart, that is true, but it could be a friend… This is, at least, how I rationalize.

Truth is, it wouldn't surprise me if you found someone else. I am not that interesting, not that attractive. Our situation is far from perfect, and you never said you really wanted me. I myself did not know what I wanted until less than two months ago, and didn't know I wanted it this bad until now. You always said you weren't sure.

My heart races and I try to calm down. It's somewhat successful; at least I've stopped shaking. The initial panic is subsiding, and I evaluate my chances of getting off the floor. I decide to stay here, for the moment.

If something has happened, I expect you to tell me quite soon. I deserve that much. If nothing has happened, if my fear of loss has led me to misinterpret, then that too will eventually be apparent. Either way, I've learned that I don't want to lose you. That when I wake up, I want you there beside me. Perhaps that realization scares me even more than the thought of you finding someone else.

I am calmer now, and slowly I sit up. I look into the darkness, and in it I see a faint reflection of what I've been. I know something has changed, can feel it in the same area of my chest as where the residue of pain still lingers. I don't know what. The future, or perhaps it is the past, surrounds me, trying to whisper hints in my ear. I listen, but do not understand. As I rise, as I think about you, it grows louder but not clearer, and I know but one thing:

Your words hold the key.

Återfödelse

Mina skuggor har skingrats
Och först nu inser jag
Hur sikten har skymts
Men det är okej
För världen glänser
Och en flamma av känslor
Flödar fram
Utan något mål
Men med sol
(Eller tårar)
I sikte.

Vånda

I vånda
Blir vissa känslor
Klarare
Som för att säga
"Vi fanns alltid här
Men nu
När någonting
Kanske
Gått förlorat
Tänker vi inte längre
Gömma oss"
Och så hoppar de fram,
Kramas,
Och skrattar åt
Min rädsla.

Initialer

En tillägning
Av en dikt
Och mitt hjärta
Bryter sina väggar
I takt med ventileringen
Som har prefixet
"Hyper".

Initialer
Som inte är
Mina.

Stora ord

Kanske skrämmer mig
De stora orden
I stora bokstäver
(Som om man ropar dem)
Och kanske gör de det
För att jag vet att "nu"
Så lätt inte är
"Sedan"
Fast det är lätt att tro det
(Som någon gjorde en gång)

Men jag vill att du
(Ja, just du)
Ska känna till
Att fast jag inget säger
Så finns hos mig
Gömda i tankarna
Just de där orden
Som tar upp mer plats än andra
Och de vill sägas
Eller skrikas
Men mest av allt
Vill de viskas en morgon
Utan att tåget
"går om en timme"
Men med all tid i världen
För att vara meningsfulla.

Tågväntan

Jag sitter här
Ja, på stationen alltså,
Och väntar på det tåg
(Ditt tåg)
Som rent allmänt kallas "Tid".

Det brukar vara ganska fullbokat
Och när jag läser tabellen
Så skräms jag av insikten
Att när tåget väl når hit
Är kanske platsen
Tagen.

Vart tog bussen vägen?

Min förfrågan är så trägen:
Vart tog bussen vägen?
Känn min misär;
Nyss var den här
Men nu är den blott sägen.