I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

Once death is upon us –
lingering quietly
along every corner
in nooks and crannies,
seeping blindly
through dusty door frames;

Once death shelters us –
holding us hostage
behind the mourned safety
of our very own gates,
pointing fingers at those
with whom we share our homes;

Once death isolates us –
forcing stubborn kids
to find joy
in sticks & plastics,
flying simple pleasures
in tight portions of the sky;

Only then are we
too ashamed to look up –
our necks paralyzed
by the unsettling guilt
we have called
upon ourselves.

Incapable of
basking in the beauty
of diamonds in the clouds,
we stare sorrowfully
down at the soil,
where our feet are pinned –

where we may soon lay beneath.

it's better to feel pain
than nothing at all

the opposite of love
is indifference

i feel fragile
amidst the sea
of my unwavering thoughts

as though
to trance freely
around the world

outside these four walls
would be much,
much safer

than to linger upon
the voices
within it

i want my soul to
tangle up with yours and find
comfort in chaos