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rstlss Dec 2019
What drives a person to love,
or so they call it?
What drives a person to madness
that clouds blur the line between
reality and fiction?
What drives a person to craziness
to the point that every hope
becomes desperation?
Is it the sincerity of feelings
harbored for years,
rehearsed and directed;
shared among peers,
or is it the vile desire
for personal satisfaction,
unanswered by simple
words of attraction?
What, in the name of love,
starts from point A to point B?

The answer?
Nothing
because what is perceive
by the majority
is that love starts from a point
towards a definite
line of singularity.
But love isn't a trip;
it's a journey
to the unknown realm
of one's humanity.
It soars through the skies,
and navigates the seas;
and changes every time,
every season, like a tree
that blooms, grows and dies,
but once it gains its ground,
love is yet another journey
towards the profound.
It is never about the person
to whom one expresses oneself
and it is never about the person
expressing oneself.
It's never about the person,
but the experience to it.
It's about growth and commitment
with the world in it.
It is the meals everyday,
not the food.
It is not a street;
it's a neighborhood.
It's not just the ground,
but it's also the air.
It's supposed to be found
here and everywhere.

Love,
goes from point A to point B,
then it moves to C, D, and also E,
and even after love goes to Z,
there will always be a point A,
where one can restart and see,
all the points one came across
which changed one's humanity.

Love,
never stops,
it's only the person that does,
for love is a force of nature
that shifts reality;
it never fails and it never will,
it's only the person
which fails to see,
the supposed change love can bring
to one's capacity
to realize the reality
bounded by the ways of love.

Love,
is never some thing;
it is something that isn't
material nor is it a feeling.

Love,
is an entirety of being
towards the world
one is living,
for love isn't just romantic,
platonic, nor storge-ic;
it is never just the term,
never just actions,
nor it is just feelings,
nor it is just efforts,
nor it is just confessions,
nor it is just gifts,
nor it is just commitments.

Love,
is everything at once
after everything starts to make sense.
ya'll need some love
rstlss Aug 2018
Unfinished,
unpolished,
unfurnished;
unpublished.
Like us, a draft
of what can be called
"the both of us."
A draft created
that's open for change.

A change
to be better
---better
than who we are
or what we are
in the midst of the conflict
that floats around us
for the sake of us
for the both of us
---for each other.

A change
to be smoother
---smoother
with no mistakes,
with everything
in order;
consistent,
and coherent
even with the dialogues
we say that matter.

A change
to be clearer
---clearer,
meaning it is
at least what it is
meant to be conveying
with no underlying
vague wordings
when it comes
to our feelings
---for one another.

But that's there all is:
a draft
of what could be called
the both of us;
a product
of what we can become
if we make it become;
a product
of the possibilities
of what can be us,
of what might be us,
of what is it between us
between the fragments
of the words,
the lines,
and the series
of all of them
that constantly paint
faint descriptions of us,
descriptions
created [fabricated]
in my mind
like a work of fiction,
of pure imagination.

Unfinished,
unpolished,
unfurnished;
unpublished,
l­ike the poems
I wrote for us;
like the poems
about us;
like us, a draft.
8.31.18

****

— The End —