mel-thide

[mel-thide]

where do you disappear

when I’m right here waiting for a word of yours

when time stops by your absence

when nothing seems so strong than the memory you left

where do you disappear when I need you

when my heart feels heavy from the thoughts I have of you

where where where

tell me where I can find you

the void you left makes me speechless

breathless

heartless

the void you left makes me disappear

too

where do I disappear when you’re not here

where do I go who do I become what is left of me

what am I when you disappear what can I do if I don’t feel you close

or maybe I do

maybe every single breathe I take is oriented to you

and all of my being inspires from you

where do we disappear when you come to me

to embrace what we are and what we will ever be

what are we when we’re one

where do we go when everything else disappears

when everything disappears in the stir of our breath

what is left of the world what is left of us

of you

of me

tell me what are we

when finally you’re here and I want nothing more

nothing more than the sound of the voice

the taste of your lips

and the sparkle of your eyes

where do you disappear when you leave me

when you take all of me and vanish into thin air

what I am when I can’t find you

you used me and there I remain

waiting for your return

looking at myself and seeing only blank space

a soul fading away

because you’ve disappeared

and left me here

[mel-thide]

Why do you write poetry ?

because my heart wants it even when my mind is paralyzed. exactly because I can’t find the words, because nothing I say feels right. Because i don’t say words, I spit them. because I am jealous of others when they write, because they are all I want to be when my heart beats a little too fast at night. because I never come in terms with myself, so I get into fights with words. because everything looks more beautiful on paper. because any emotion is magnified and reaches art when words take hold of them. because I want my pain, my tears, my anger, my disappointment to be more than just suffering, I want them to glow and sparkle. because I want to make my writing a fairy tale made of thunders. because, secretly, every time I read something I wrote, I shed a tear. because it makes me feel a little bit more extraordinary, a little more important, because it makes everything ugly beautiful. because, somehow, I have no choice but to keep trying even though I don’t want it. because I am scared by words and I have this habit of getting trapped into my fears.

because he made me fall in love with him unconditionally, and I had to rationalize it, to harness it. Because he broke every part of me like you break a glass of wine and words were the only way to mend it. because even when I hated him, I loved him still ; and i thought that crying it down into words would imprison that love and keep it out of me for good. because I want to say things to so many people but I am too cowardly to ever do it. because I somehow come out all grey. because I suck at being myself. because I only run away. because I want to stop and face everything. because they made me hide but I want to blossom, I want to fly free and untrammeled. because things around are beautiful when you really take a look. because there are a million stars over a tiny rock on the ocean and a million colors inside of me. because I want to believe in forever. and you can never wipe words out.

[mel-thide]

the night was falling on the building and the stir was growing inside this little Turkish restaurant, lit by warm colors. The insignificance of this moment made it so special : as we were all waiting for our dinners to be served, we chatted about random things. It was a strange group to belong in, and indeed, I did not know those people very well. Every single one of them remained a mystery I couldn’t decipher. Everyone was genuinely smiling, despite the short moments of silence that made us slightly uncomfortable. The light atmosphere of the room took my apprehension away, and I could finally focus on what I like about people : the colorful auras they naturally emit. I started talking to the girl next to me : she had long wavy hair and beautiful eyes surrounded by long black lashes. We didn’t talk much before, I still wonder how she happened to be here, that day. She first told me about the wonders of Eastern Europe, and especially her home country, Bosnia. And suddenly she told me

your eyes sparkle so brightly

it came like a lightning

me and my sparkling eyes

I usually picture myself in a dark room, being sad and lost. Youth has left me years ago, but I don’t know how to be an adult. It’s like I’m a tightrope walker risking to lose my balance anytime. In this dark room, you can see no light, and indeed, everything around is grey. In this dark room, i had taken shelter to flee my demons. I double locked the door to make sure they could never get in, even though they were already inside me. In this dark room, I was powerless, incapable, vulnerable, reckless and terrified.

and yet

my eyes sparkled she said

so bright

How was it possible ? She didn’t invent it - and I looked at her while she said that and I muttered a “really ?” full of hope. As she said that, I realized there are many different ways to see oneself. And I could feel the walls breaking down around me.

You just have to take a look at yourself, to look a little bit closer, and to see the light.

A dim fire was burning inside me.

and even if I wanted to kill life and numb everything around me, my eyes sparkled, she told me. That’s why it has become my favorite word. That’s why I use it in all my stories.

because I sparkle even when I don’t want to. I sparkle and that’s just it and life is maybe nothing more than a sparkle in the middle of chaos.

maybe it is also someone, something, a moment maybe, that can turn the sparkle

into a firework

[mel-thide]

I struggle with time

I can’t seem to be able to fight against this torment of time passing inexorably. I fight it with my thinking every now and then, but fighting time is like punching into a wall with your bare fists - it hurts you but you can never hurt it back.

I struggle with time and everything it takes away from me ; even when I’m trying so hard to enjoy the happy moments I am given - because i know it is waiting right behind the corner to turn them to ashes.

Oh, time ! How almighty you seem to be, making me wonder how long it is gonna last !

I want to love but I can already see myself hating ; I want to smile but I am waiting right away for the moment it will fade.

Oh, how hurt I am from those changes prompted by time ; from the shivers I get when I notice the slightest difference, because I shudder that it could be the beginning of the end. Every moment you rule upon seem to be stricken with poverty.

What a miserable nihilist you made me become.

I struggle with you I struggle with myself because of you ; because of what you stir into me. I’m cynical and defeatist, deprived of the joys of the instants, blinded by the end at the expense of the process.

I seem to daydream of nightmares, of what could happen if she dies, if he leaves, if this ends. You pervade my longings, you reside in my hopes ; i can never make the best out of you.

I am scared - no, i am terrified of time’s supremacy over me.

I love him, but I fear him and what he becomes under your yoke. Like the sight you have of the landscape when you leave your loved ones for good and your heart suddenly weights one thousand pounds more, I already think of the end of us, even when we are not something yet. How can I cherish him well ; how can I adore him - if I know that one day I’ll wake up and swiftly realize that I don’t love him anymore. I hate the pain I feel from the thought I will be away from him, even when he’s right here. That’s why I lose him, every day a bit more, that’s why I hate you.

That’s why I struggle with you and with the paranoia you’ve put into me. Some would say time is precious, I am not one of them.

Time is the staving wolf waiting on to devour the young lamb peacefully quenching its thirst at the river.

[mel-thide]

The people I’ve met resonate in my heart like church bells. I hear, with attention, every single ring I can discern, and it hurts to hear yours so quiet. Weeks became rough, I still got my memories, and I don’t know whether they’re killing or saving me. Strange things are memories. When I look at myself in the mirror, I always see myself younger. I see my skin when it was still fresh, but I can’t picture my eyes when they still looked bland. The shines I see into them almost gets me to you. The stories that each of us tells, being themselves, give me a taste of wonder. « People are like books. » she said. These words can’t seem to escape my head, and I realize I’ve read so much.

One of the many books I’ve read -and that I’ll never stop reading- burst into this world so far too new for me. I don’t know where to stand, I don’t trust anyone. You gave me a precious thing : the memory of my voice, breaking this silence, while I was looking into your eyes to find some strength, and it comes back to me with the greatest impact. Those words’ horrible meaning, all those eyes watching me, waiting for the next word, for the next discharge of suffering, fills me with pain. The pain of the lack of a depth. This tension in our looks will never be forgotten, just like those feelings I felt inside on my way to metamorphosis. In a whisper, I’d utter - that this is what I call living.

Heads up, i’m in want of something to look at. Something to understand. Nothing has felt better than the reality we created together, with such simple artefacts : me, you, and those words between us, made ours.

About our Wadji Mouawad’ incendies

Flo jtm pour toute la vie

[mel-thide]

you made an indelible mark in my heart

[mel-thide]

people usually say : write about what scares you the most.

there are too many things to be scared about. death, life, others, yourself. fear stands in a paradox we’re not able to fight, and once it strikes, you drown. I wanted to write about what scared me the most. and I would say, once you’ve experienced fear, real fear, this uncontrollable feeling that consumes every part your mind and body, your biggest fear becomes the fear itself. I can’t escape the claws of my demons and they seem to follow me as I think, unconsciously, negatively.

Paralysis made me taste the fragrance of the death. On those knees, I feel like I stopped existing. In this small grip of moment, i lost track. I lost myself. My heart is pounding as loud and fast as I lose my breathe. I make noise to remind myself I am still there. It feels like, in this grip of moment, the world stopped. that I won’t ever be able to be something else than this ruin, that this has become who I am. I have lost sight of my existence with the way he talked to me about life, and how much, obviously, he knows about it. How wrong I am. The robbery of my only lights makes me wrecked, stammering those words I want to spit, confronted to my incapacity, my impotence, of fighting. In a twinkling of an eye, I am nothing. I am the misery that was brought into me, I look at her, and unfortunately, it is worse. She never looked so sad, and the wait is too heavy to bear, as the hope runs away playfully, carrying our reality with it.

The whole room has been emptied, silence took its throne back. We don’t share any word for the business of our realization. Suffering was so big, that it couldn’t even be felt. But time, made it come back. The awareness awakens those heartbeats, the ones that rushed just before when you felt like dying, and every single pound becomes pain. My eyes have no tears left to cry, and I feel like I have died. Those eyes can’t seem to close, they’re vivid to the slightest shadows. Silence becomes noise itself.

I hate what I have become. I hate this sensitivity. The rain doesn’t fall so much anymore but your soul stays haunted. You still see terror in the smallest details. They’re thousands miles away, but their repair is still inside. They don’t have to step an inch.

[mel-thide]

he’s from somewhere else

every morning, I remember us. The memory of you chockes into my head and my first thought of the day is about how much I want you out - but you never go. Time gives me trouble to break through the hustle of what’s left in me, and this mess, collides in the dark. This is not the way I want us, but if life was about what we wanted, we wouldn’t be. We exist from the miracle of an instant that I created, from this instinct I had on this summer day, to go to you, and find my destiny. We exist because we’re meant to vanish, we steal the light of things to put them in our eyes, and we get burn.

those things, i put them into brackets. I embrace the thought of you and my regard as if you were never here. Some things come with their own punishments. The thrive for the unconditional makes my head spin, for you, with you. There is nothing I can do.

My day starts everyday, and tomorrow it will start again. your face will appear to mine like an old blurry memory, fed by all that I see in the day. Voices, texts, people. The whole world brings me back to you. in the surface of what I appear to be, I know what depth is, and I hope light shines for you. I don’t know if this is the dark, the blindness, or just the fade of a smile.

you cannot let go

[mel-thide]

in the noise of the subway we manage to exchange some words, and laugh. I tell you about my fears and my future, and we discover, in the middle of the night, under those artificial lights, that we’re the same. Something built out of nowhere. I don’t want this to end, that incredible talk. My home feels like a sanctuary where I cover my ears with loud stuff to forget about the silence. About his, especially. He’s made me a different person and has carried me for so long, but you can’t know it. In our words, I will never pronounce him. He’s too secret, he’s my secret, even though he’s not mine. My future is so much more than I told you and I hope yours is too, that you have crazy stuff to do. My craziness stands in him. My regrets only come from one thing : we are not meant to be crazy.

[mel-thide]

convos go wild sometimes

[mel-thide]

s

I remember your house. All your mess on the floor, the dirt on the walls. The dark in the rooms. Slow, invading darkness creeping up to my spine. I didn’t feel safe. Not in your house, never with you.

All you mean is danger. All you will ever mean. Magician of torture like you wished you could be. That’s the limit of your power. You create cracks in our strings, in our paths. You tore us apart. We standed as a family and you were the demon, whose wings are too sharp, whose feathers weight kilograms. You forced fright in our eyes and floods in our brains. Like ships in a tempest, we tried to fight, but it wasn’t enough.

We are now bound to drown. There’s so much we wish we could do, but we just close our eyes like scared children in the dark. We don’t wanna open them, see this world of disgrace - your looks, and terrifying soul. You’re a monster to me.

Big head, black nails, red eyes. Of alcohol. Highness triggering the feel of your omnipotence. Your hopes collide in the air and for a second - you ask yourself why you’re not a good person -, but the thought goes away with the smoke, in the air...

you strike again on our happiness. You steal the butterflies and replace them by snakes. Dragons, maybe? That’s what she told me.

We feel the presence of danger, and we want you dead. I need you dead.

We are hopeless souls trying to recover with the juice of poison. The atmosphere around goes like an alarm and I know something is wrong, but she won’t tell me. She’s always been so secret. I love you, Mom. Words don’t traffic anymore. Silence has taken the throne.

i don’t like what we became and he is still not dead. He lurks around waiting for the climax, and will strike again. How far is this gonna end?

For the memory of us, I hold us as victims. We didn’t have muscles. For our memory, I hate you with my life, for what you do and did. For all the broken things, I stand up against you and think loud in the veld that we’ll live despite you. Your memory, always up in our minds, doesn’t have a name yet, but I fuel my fury, so that one day I can turn the pain into my strong reality.

We still fight.

[mel-thide]

I keep our love in some photographs. Photographs of you smiling in the dark, your eyes shining with the pink breeze of wonder we both share, and I look at you. I look at those moments when I was happy. Nothing then worried me more than the connection, between us, above us. We were fighting against time and stealing odd’s tickets, just to see in a smile the light of this thing I wish I could see one last time. The beauty of your love. Your restlessness. Your frenzy when I’m in front of you, but vanish into the air once I have my back turned. you would turn as well and be unable to look behind. The spell was broken and I could hear your steps going away, taking my stars with you. You would come back like raindrops just before the tempest. Thinking about it, you were the tempest. Wind and sound into my ears like I can’t hear anything more than your sweet, pretty voice. Telling me beautiful lies.

The sun always comes after the tempest. But the sun wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted the hustle of breathe and the chaos in my head. We were the victims of the intrigue, like prototypes waiting to fit. We were pieces of a puzzle meant to never end. We stand in the word that you fail to pronounce, we’re the buried hope of our sanded thoughts.

[mel-thide]

i overthink, overlove, overfeel and overstress

[mel-thide]

silence 🌙

keep it silent

because the deepest words are the whispered ones 

the broken hearts are the sincere ones 

the longest nights are the ones we remember 

the brightest stars are the ones making us shiver  

the biggest pains are the greatest fears

keep it silent 

because once the noise is gone 

the only thing that remains 

is the beating of your heart 

the tears in your eyes 

and the blood of the moonlight 

[mel-thide]

[mel-thide]

my tears almost drowned me

[mel-thide]

I already feel like I’m losing you. I feel like every single second is a threat. that you’re getting bored. that I am not enough.

I wanna cry. I’m afraid that you would leave me.