I swear, my heart broke a little when her voice started breaking in the middle of the poem. From her loud desperate cries and wails, I could feel that Mans was as shattered, crushed and crumbled as she said she was, if not more so. The pain, the agony in her voice is so immense that now I am terribly afraid of being heart broken, even more so than before.
I love the imageries she used in the poem, it's all so poetic. 'Lay my heart on his chest like red roses on Mahogany caskets', 'we loved, like there were expiration dates tattooed on our inner thighs', 'your heartbeat sounded like guns shells tripping over battered cement', 'never regret loving in permanent ink', 'with hearts filled with thousand of fireflies', 'we hurt like c-section birthing dead babies'... All of these lines, filled with death, beauty, hopelessness, intimacy, violence, pain and light; it is something to produce words and lines as such. And it takes some experience, some hurt and some broken heart and some courage, to be able to write and read like Mans does.
Dear Ex Lover,I hope my daughter never knows what a goodbye kiss feels like…
I hope she never knows what “I’ll see you later.” really means.
I hope she never memorizes the dial-tone of a last conversation,
because a broken heart feels like poisoned butterflies taking their last flutters in the pit of your stomach
This single stanza caught my eyes and ears when I first heard this poem. This stanza is so relatable, so real. It will be great to never know what a goodbye kiss feels like. And never experience the loss, the losing of a person, of love, that would never come back. Because a broken heart, feels like the poisoned butterflies dying and corroding into your acid stomach. Mans sounded so personal in these lines, and made them sincere prayers for the innocence and happiness of her future daughter, the protection from pain and sorrows.
One of my favorite line in Mans' poem is 'And that we loved women who loved women, who loved people that did not love us.' This line is so strong, so desolate and absolute. That was the end and the truth for Mans. Well, and then this line obviously does not solely work for female female relationships. It works for everyone and any type of love. And that we loved people who loved people, who loved the persons that did not love us...Because love is a game that makes strangers fall for strangers, and turns strangers into lovers and into strangers.
'Never regret loving in permanent ink.'
This is the line that struck me most. I know as of now, I am paving my own way, either to a deathly fall that would kill my heart, or a nirvana of love and affection. I desperately hope that the latter one would be the truth. No matter how happy I am now, it is hard to be naive and assume that things will be all happily ever after. It is all kind of sad, I understand, but then I promised to believe and so I will.
I don't think I will regret loving in permanent ink, I am just quite afraid of loving in permanant ink. Anyhow, the needles are already going deeper and deeper now and the ink is already spreading all over. I sincerely wish I never have to 'stop chasing memories in my dreams', and can dream up worlds and blue skies, diners and fire escapes, beds and rooftops and everything else, and never have to stop. I hope I could cry and pray and laugh with love 'like our smiles were the only ones that mattered in this world' till the day...till th
Dear Ex Lover,
I promise I’ll stop chasing your memory in my dreams.
I’ll stop bringing your
name up over cups of coffee, muffins, and loneliness.
I will marry a man
and I will lay my heart on his chest like red roses on Mahogany caskets
and
I’ll have his daughter and she’ll have eyes reminding me that God still believes
in second chances.
And if she ever decided to love a woman, I will rub bravery down her spine.
I will be reminded of all the times that we loved, like there were expiration dates tattooed on our inner thighs.
If she ever comes home with eyelids like cracking Levis and bruised kneecaps and a heart filled with question marks
I will hold her like my mother never held me.
I will clasp her face in my palms like the new testament on judgement day.
I’ll tell her that love is the passion that allows you to do the right thing,
and that no woman can play coaster to a half empty heart.
And if she ever feels as if she is alone,
as if she is a hand-me-down pulled out of the depths of mummy’s closet.
I’ll remember your name and I’ll mumble it under my breath and if she asks me what I said;
I’ll tell her I know what it’s like to drag a woman out of a cold war
and then being too worn to clean up the battlefield that it has made of you.
I’ll tell her that your heartbeat sounded like gun shells tripping over battered cement.
I’ll tell her that i know what it’s like just to want someone to remember you
and that some women are as foul as expired men in produce isles
and that apologies are like oxygen masks on a hijacked plane.
Forgive yourself before you ever forgive the person sitting next to you.
I’ll tell her to never regret loving in permanent ink,
and that scars only give you stretch marks,
something to gossip about
and that hearts and stop signs are fraternal twins,
lost in open roads and hollow chests.
And if my daughter’s mirror ever looks unfamiliar and she’s too embarrassed and prideful to run into mummy’s arms
I’ll pray, that she has friends with hearts filled with thousands of fire flies,
who are not too cool to pray with her,
who will tell her to stop looking for the light at the end of the tunnel and find God in the darkness.
If my daughter ever walks in my house like shattering glass,
I’ll tell her about you.
I’ll tell her that we hurt like c-sections birthing dead babies,
and that we cried together, and we prayed together, and we laughed
like our smiles were the only ones that mattered in this world.
And that we hurt like women who loved women, who loved people that did not love us.
Dear Ex Lover,I hope my daughter never knows what a goodbye kiss feels like…
I hope she never knows what “I’ll see you later.” really means.
I hope she never memorizes the dial-tone of a last conversation,
because a broken heart feels like poisoned butterflies taking their last flutters in the pit of your stomach
Dear Ex Lover, I hope my daughter never bears her soul at a poetry showcase with her first love sitting in the audience,
knowing that the hands she’ll use to applaud her with, will be the same hands that will never hold her again.
I promise I’ll stop chasing your memory in my dreams.
I’ll stop bringing your
name up over cups of coffee, muffins, and loneliness.
I will marry a man
and I will lay my heart on his chest like red roses on Mahogany caskets
and
I’ll have his daughter and she’ll have eyes reminding me that God still believes
in second chances.
And if she ever decided to love a woman, I will rub bravery down her spine.
I will be reminded of all the times that we loved, like there were expiration dates tattooed on our inner thighs.
If she ever comes home with eyelids like cracking Levis and bruised kneecaps and a heart filled with question marks
I will hold her like my mother never held me.
I will clasp her face in my palms like the new testament on judgement day.
I’ll tell her that love is the passion that allows you to do the right thing,
and that no woman can play coaster to a half empty heart.
And if she ever feels as if she is alone,
as if she is a hand-me-down pulled out of the depths of mummy’s closet.
I’ll remember your name and I’ll mumble it under my breath and if she asks me what I said;
I’ll tell her I know what it’s like to drag a woman out of a cold war
and then being too worn to clean up the battlefield that it has made of you.
I’ll tell her that your heartbeat sounded like gun shells tripping over battered cement.
I’ll tell her that i know what it’s like just to want someone to remember you
and that some women are as foul as expired men in produce isles
and that apologies are like oxygen masks on a hijacked plane.
Forgive yourself before you ever forgive the person sitting next to you.
I’ll tell her to never regret loving in permanent ink,
and that scars only give you stretch marks,
something to gossip about
and that hearts and stop signs are fraternal twins,
lost in open roads and hollow chests.
And if my daughter’s mirror ever looks unfamiliar and she’s too embarrassed and prideful to run into mummy’s arms
I’ll pray, that she has friends with hearts filled with thousands of fire flies,
who are not too cool to pray with her,
who will tell her to stop looking for the light at the end of the tunnel and find God in the darkness.
If my daughter ever walks in my house like shattering glass,
I’ll tell her about you.
I’ll tell her that we hurt like c-sections birthing dead babies,
and that we cried together, and we prayed together, and we laughed
like our smiles were the only ones that mattered in this world.
And that we hurt like women who loved women, who loved people that did not love us.
Dear Ex Lover,I hope my daughter never knows what a goodbye kiss feels like…
I hope she never knows what “I’ll see you later.” really means.
I hope she never memorizes the dial-tone of a last conversation,
because a broken heart feels like poisoned butterflies taking their last flutters in the pit of your stomach
Dear Ex Lover, I hope my daughter never bears her soul at a poetry showcase with her first love sitting in the audience,
knowing that the hands she’ll use to applaud her with, will be the same hands that will never hold her again.
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