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A Happy Little Boy

I am still surrounded. Surrounded to still be sitting here listening to the same song, smoking the same cigarette. I have very little regrets, but you make the most of them. It is about the wide space in me I left open for you, and you very lightly left for disappointments. Nothing special about anything, except for the context and the little kindness-es you’ve sparkled over life on occasions. It tore my heart every time I had to leave and you gave me permission. “I am sorry honey; do I have a reason to not seek another?” “I just want you to be happy.” Selfish, self-centered, trapped little boy. I could’ve made you the happiest, if only you knew how to let yourself in me. I could’ve made you the realist, if only you recognized all the faults in your logic. Naive little boy. I am gone, I am so gone. But you still make me nervous, like all the hairs in my body waiting for a smile. Did you need to follow me to the end of the world to show me our love then tell
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Long Pauses

Hi, I haven’t written in a while, but maybe I have never stopped. I have been thinking a lot lately, about the construct of who I am as a person and all what makes me, you know, me.      Funny I know since I spent most of the past 10 years figuring that out, without a clear conclusion. Mostly a blurred-out line that started to plateau after a certain age. Was it 22? My first heartbreak, me realizing how all heartbreaks are similar and stem out of denial of what you thought would be yours? Was it 24? With me breaking every taboo I know to feel more? To love harder? To experience my existence with a greater depth? Was it 25? With me opening up my mind to see what’s really there? 26? 27? 28? 29? Getting wasted? Falling in love again and again? Kissing under the rain? Opening up my body in an attempt to detach from a physical being only to confine myself even more? Baggage. Emotional baggage. Long dark alleyways filled with dust, blood and almost forgotten peopl
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On All The Times You Broke My Heart

It absolutely fascinates me, the people who would choose the most hurtful things to be said and say it to you by means of "giving advice". What psychologically sane person would take someone's biggest insecurity, expand it and project it on every air particle breathed or wasted. Grasp for air. Look for something that could be confused for love or something similar. Sheded skin, broken back, weak trying to stand a ground that's softer than cloud. And I'd be damned if I ever grew my bones in soils I did not seed myself.
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A Boy and Space

We meet so many people, at times too many, and they make us feel special they make us feel complete even if for a little while. And it has always been worth it. But this boy, he makes me feel real. Like fantasy never existed between us. Like his laugh makes my smile. Like his singing so harsh to the ears but too close to my heart. This boy; trenched. Humble. Broken. But playful and joyful like a heatstroke in outer space. Make me the realest. Because I've been looking down on earth for way too long.
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Points of Time

Years before, or years after. "Us" could've worked differently. Against a navy background. Against broken glass. Under layers of disappointments and above all else. Time passes heavily yet swiftly, it could've been us. But you're you and I, I. Tinder, forgotten rough around all edges except for the one you lay so close to. It's not even a memory, but a meaning latching on the under-surface of my brain.
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A Room + Little Us

There is still that room in my mind. With you at the center and a painting with all the green turned purple. Curtains down I still visit. Curtains up, it doesn't look like me anymore. The moon reflecting on my face and the sun bright right out of yours. It is you, but it isn't. And I am the person who peeled you to be. Yellow wallpaper falling off the cracks of my heart. Our history trenched underneath. Walk the line, we are not afraid anymore.
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Honey-tinged Eyes

There was a time and a place where everything seemed fine because you loved me. When our voids collided into comfort. When our lips cracked into air. Cushion my heart.  Hold me tightly, but baby tear my skin. Torn is my skin; fiber to bone by the ten years passing and me still falling for the hairs on your back. Pull it apart; untether me from the shadow of your eyes ever too brightly staring into mine. But everything is hers now, and I am everyone else's.
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