i do not desire to love you
as if you were a bright sunflower or a radiant moon,
or anything that is easy to adore.

i desire to love you
as how certain imperfections are to be loved,
cherishing even your withered petals and massive craters.

i want to love you
when you're happy
while your eyes glisten of euphoria,
and your mouth flashes a mirthful laugh.

i want to love you
when you're messed up,
while your tears rush across your face,
and your hands tremble as you yearn for an embrace.

this is how i desire to love you.
i want to give more radiance to your smile
and bring order to your chaos.
i want your lights and shadows,
even the in-betweens.

i desire to love you
both in your highest of highs
and lowest of lows.
so light up your cold heart
and rest your heart on me.

maybe.
maybe if we kept wishing on
ordinary, tiny stars every night
instead of waiting for
majestic, shooting stars,
our wishes could've come true by now.

maybe.
maybe if we just looked closer
and paid more attention
to the people around us,
we wouldn't have fallen for
the wrong one.

perhaps, maybe,
maybe, just maybe.
maybe, we could've been
if we wished on ordinary, tiny stars
and if we looked closer from the start.
maybe.

Perhaps no one knows
how tough life has been for me lately,
and how close I am from giving up.

But when I hear you laugh,
life goes from tough to the easiest thing
and you keep me going somehow.

watch what she photographs.
not in digital, but in film.
where the shots are limited,
where the photographs are quite unexpected,
where she takes the picture carefully,
because she's worried that it would be blurry.

thirty-six decisions, thirty-six shutters.
watch what she spends her film for.
preserving conversations,
preserving memories,
preserving sensations,
all shared with you.

perhaps she wants to keep,
not just photographs but fragments of you.
through capturing photographs,
between flares and grains,
or even negatives and shadows,
she has thirty-six memories all kept in a roll.

she gave you a wave,
but you're worth
all the oceans in the world.

she gave you a seed,
but youre worth
gardens and gardens of flowers.

imagine how
you were deeply happy with portions.
well i am here, willing to give you completion.

perhaps the worst thing to realize,
is that you still prefer parts of her,
than the entirety of me.

You and I are
the written words on a book's back cover,
the two-minute movie trailer,
the first sip from a cup of earl grey.

We’re a beginning,

a preview of what might happen,

of what could possibly occur
if the stars ever align for us.


But for now, I’m satisfied with

coincidental blurs of sojourns,
occasional tastes of your lips,
with hopes that perchance we shall meet again.

you are
the cold December breeze
on a warm April summer.

you are
the random, surprise present
on an ordinary, uneventful day.

you are
the risen moon even if the sun
is still there, in broad daylight.

what i'm trying to say is that
you are unexpected, unforeseen.
you caught me off guard,
but you make me happy anyway.