Suggestion
Yes
Ideas
Yes
Backwards not forward
When did we allow this division?
Will we ever be the same?
Who is to blame?
The answets
Remain

Every splash of ink,
Every drag of this pen.

Is another gift in the face of common man,
An honor that is art to the human soul.

For if not for this music,
Spirits would grow old, crumbling in the cold.

As someone who was born in chaos.
I did not know what it meant to be loved.
So when I met you.

As delusional as I am.
As broken as I am.
As naive as I am.

I thought that our relationship was real.
I thought that your love was real
even though you do not exist.

Loving you could not bring me any harm.
I have to admit that I was wrong.
Loving you is hurting me
even if it is not something you intended to do.

Loving you has suffocated me
because as much as I hate to admit
I know that someday
I have to let you go.
I have to let myself free.

I cannot desperately live in the thought that
Someday you will exist.
Someday I can love you openly.
Someday our love will be normalized.

Because as much as I loved to be with you.
I cannot cling to my unrealistic hopes
Forever

I am sorry that at the end of the day.
I am only human.
I am sorry that at the end of the day.
I am selfish.
I am sorry that at the end of the day.
I want something you cannot give.

Every day at three—
the little prince arrives,
cawing his prophecy at the door,
voice worn with quiet hunger.

He calls me out—
out of silence,
out of whatever grief I’ve tucked away.

If I do not answer—
he circles,
cawing until I stand before him—
palms cracked open,
giving what I can to feed his hunger.

He knew the weight of my hands
before I did.

What arrogance—
to believe I am the keeper.

Perhaps it is him—
who feeds me—
the voice in the throat of the world,
reminding me—
even the unloved must answer when named.

The hour always comes.