Keraunoscopia

Alexandra

I thought I would love you forever. I’m glad that I was wrong.

This Is My Goodbye

I’ve learned that the things we lose

are the things we were never supposed 

to keep. And I never could seem

to hold on to the sound of

your voice

when you were away from me.

But now, I’m glad your voice is gone

from me forever. 

And I will never be haunted

by the sound of 

"I don’t love you anymore."

Piano Keys

She had always reminded me of a piano, 

the way she was beautiful on her own

but truly came alive when her voice was mixed with others,

and when my fingers grazed her skin

like the smooth feeling of white and black keys 

the most beautiful sounds came out

and when I heard her, every time

like a sonata or fugue

I could feel goosebumps, and

a chill run down my spine, the reaction

only beautiful music could elicit.

Wanderlust

She traveled thousands of miles away from home,

away from everything she knew, away from 

the comforts of electricity and plumbing.

People thought she was trying to find something

find herself.

But not even she realized

that it was herself she was trying to get away from.

Whispers

If you watched her closely, you could see
The thoughts swelling just below her skin
And all of the things she wanted
Desperately to scream at the top
Of her lungs, all the beautiful-
Wonderful thoughts trying to
Escape all at the same time.
But it only came out as a sigh.

You.

I want to read

your goosebumps

like braille

and touch every 

inch of your skin

to figure out

your story.

I want to know

all of you.

Collections

She was a collector of things. Books, marbles, coins and 

trinkets, she liked to keep them close

and safe. 

It wasn’t quite the same with people.

but a collection of one was enough.

When I look at you, its like the whole universe breathes this heavy sigh of relief. And I’m not sure what that means yet, but I know I’d like to find out.

Sightless

She walked through life with her eyes closed. Not that she was impaired. It was by choice.

"Why though?" People would ask.

And she never gave an answer. 

Never offered an excuse or explanation.

Ironic, no? That they were the ones who couldn’t see.

“Every one of us is losing something precious to us. Lost opportunities, lost possibilities, feelings we can never get back again. That’s part of what it means to be alive.”

—   Haruki Murakami