You’re 17.
Sunday mass at Church.
Eyes bright. Heart open.
Sign of peace.
A meeting of warm hands across the pew.
Heart aflutter, eyes lowered.
You think, God brought us together.

Sundays are quickly
becoming your favourite day of the week.
Eyes meeting, cheeks blushing
In between the homily.
Weekly meetings turn into bi-weekly dates into marriage.

You’re 24.
You say, God I can’t do this anymore.
Eyes bitter. Hearts closed.
Night-shifts. Poker weekends. Empty houses.
Wordless, soulless, meaningless co-existence.
You think, God brought us together?
No amount of hail marys
Can save us.

That Saturday
Night shift at the Hospital.
Hand sneaking under scrubs.
A breakdown of marriage
Vows.
Heart pounding. Eyes open.
Your saviour.
God’s answer?

we live on opposite sides of the world //

you like red, i like blue
i don't know how long it'll be before i get to see you
i'm not even sure if we'll get along
if you know the tune to my favourite song
if our personalities are compatible
is this even going to be possible?

But god i hope one day the stars align
and our lives will finally entwine
that the cosmos will shift in place
so that we will get our first embrace.
maybe with the pull of the moon on the tides
we'll eventually get to be with the other, side by side.

A heavy heart lies
Beneath her chest.
Thoughts she’d love to share
But no one would have guessed.
At night she retires
All alone in bed
Wishing–
That there could be someone
(Or something)
To be her reason for living.


*tell me, where's the good in goodnight?

It's that heart-clenching feeling when you want something so badly.
It's the ache you feel right down to your bones when you feel a part of you is missing.
(how could you miss arms you've never felt?)
The pain, the longing just has a way of eating you from the inside out, until all that's left is a hollow body.
Just a living being wanting, wanting to feel that semblance of warmth, of love.

I want your body next to mine
your warmth radiating to me so fine.
arms wrapped around me tight
telling me everything's gonna be alright.

To kiss someone and to feel the warmth spread through me, racing through every nerve ending; to hold their hand and grow with them - as individuals and as a combined unit; to rest in someone’s embrace—content and home; to find someone I can be comfortable with every aspect of myself; to love, and to be loved--

why is it that
we can recite the whole periodic table,
but when asked to write down
a list of what we like about ourselves,
the paper remains blank?