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Mr.X Poems Poem
Scientists claim the big bang was the first sound ever, not knowing how hard milkyway had to beg forever so they could team up to imitate us, first in supernovas, then in rainbows and Pleiades clusters, and they kept trying over and over and over again.
One hundred billion years, two hundred billion trials, three hundred billion stars yet you are my only reason of existence, even before dust, stories, light, sound and distance, even before eternity tore the pages containing our names from the book of constellations and watched how they dangled amidst tragic cosmic stories on the endless skin that streched past the eyelashes of infinity, you were my big bang.
And I'm not saying had it been milkyway haven't got tired of trying, came to me that day and asked how I did it, we wouldn't have been here, for each time my heart skipped a beat was a planet yet to be known, each time you said "I love you" was a big bang of its own, and I'd say your eyes were my Jupiter because I get lost everytime you looked at me like an astronaut in a cosmic zone, but, I always find you, even without Galileo's telescope, like a shooting star touching the hands of the most advanced lens, like a farfetched comet tracing edges of your words and your silence, in everything reflex, like every time you flinch when your maths teacher mentions X. Let it be anywhere, farther than the edges of the compass, beyond kuiper belts or anywhere, there is this maze in the lines of my fingerprints, a room in the dubs of my heartbeats, a street in this memory lane, and I always find you there, as an emblem of sanctuary.
-Mr.X
©26.01.2022
Excerpted from 'The book of Constellations'
Copyright © Mr.X Poems | Year Posted 2022
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Mr.X Poems Poem
Love is this two empty chairs we use to sit, drowning in pain and dust. Love is counting hours into days in the most littlest bit, over and over until you are lost. Love is Quantum physics, for I find you in every bit of time and its relics. Love is the weather, how you cloud my thoughts, rain my crops, paint my days in colors that painted rainbows and unicorns and I'd say you spring my summer too like dewdrops on baby leaflets but how do I tell them your smiles, silent torrent waves, and make angry tornadoes set?
You have every reason to not believe me, for I used to be a poet before this, for all the letters I wrote to you, all the love I do have for you, never reached your galaxy and, I'm not blaming you for not loving me, or for letting a ripple sweep you off your feet when I came with a tsunami, for letting the sun take over every source of light in your eyes when the crops of my heart needed you to photosynthesise, I'm not blaming you. And they say you only find true love once in a lifetime, so if only I knew how to trace you again, in quantum physics, watch how time kicks the reverse gear and run thirty years back from now to park in your backyard, I wouldn't have given you all that I had or lost hope of finding you again, after ten thousand trials, three thousand, or ten.
Something keeps telling me that these stories of lifetimes one day will get to you. But if they don't, know that I couldn't find you only because you were my everything and in everything I do, will it be selfish that I ask for more?
-Mr.X
©4.02.2022
Excerpted from 'The Book of Constellations'.
Copyright © Mr.X Poems | Year Posted 2022
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