Weekly Write: “I’m holding our memories alone, and suddenly they are so heavy” by Frankie Kubena

I’m holding our memories alone, and suddenly they are so heavy

We stopped talking in the same way I quit smoking; eventually you must outgrow the toxic thing. I don’t think of cigarettes much since quitting, but sometimes when walking by someone who is smoking, I breathe deeply. In other words, I still love you, but at times when you weren’t around, I forgot you ever were. If I have to be a type of lonely, this is as good as any. And, if someone had to die, lord knows you tried hard enough. When I found out, the first thing I did was smoke, and I haven’t stopped since. What is mean is; my head is still spinning, and I am tired of breathing you in. Grief is less how I imagined it would be, more hysterical laughter. Sometimes it is smiling at apologies and saying “we weren’t that close,” and sometimes it collapsing. It is no explanation. It is picturing what your body must look like now, and wondering if it is any different than the ghost I used to know.

 

Frankie Kubena is an emerging performance poet based in New York City, currently a college student at Pace University. Their style of poetry could be described as nonconventional and I write in freestyle. Kubena grew up in several European cities and their work is created through a multicultural, feminist lens. View Frankie’s blog at frankiespoetry.com.

 

 

 

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