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Harsh May 2016
Dear Strawberry,

I first met you years ago,
we were in 5th grade together
and I remember always thinking
you had the prettiest smile.
There was this one time
a friend of ours
(I don't remember who)
told a joke that made you laugh.
I remember immediately thinking
"I wish I'd told that story, I wish
I was the one who made you laugh."
It's been 9 years since
those halcyon days
and I'll always wonder
what would've happened
had I told you how I felt.

Sincerely,
The Boy Who Always Sat
In The Corner Seat

P.S. I still remember walking back from school together.

P.P.S. I'm revisiting this years later and now you're engaged- I don't think I'll ever share this with you but in the event that you do come across it, I wish you nothing but the absolute best. You deserve it.
It's been interesting seeing you grow up. I'm proud of who you are and I'm excited to see all you'll accomplish in the coming years.
Harsh May 2016
Anyone walking by me
would probably size me up,
give a fleeting glance
over what I had spread out
on the table in front of me
and think to themselves
“Looks like his man is just
eating away his sorrows."
But sometimes, no matter
how much I fit in my stomach,
I still feel empty inside.
Harsh Apr 2016
I’ve always been fascinated
by images of still water.
As mundane as it sounds,
there is a beauty that exists
past the reflective nature of it.
At any given point in time,
the odds are against its stillness.
There are thousands of animals
scampering and lumbering
through our woods and forests,
just waiting to satiate their thirst.
There are millions of trees
and billions of leaves
waiting to be picked up
by the slightest breeze.
There are an infinite amount of things
than can ripple the waters we gaze upon.
And against these odds, it persists.
We hustle and rush throughout our days,
but once in a while we should just
stop, and reflect.

Just like the water does for us.
Harsh Mar 2016
There's a certain time
that's subjective to everyone
but remains universal in principle.
It is the point where
you've checked all your emails,
replied to all your messages,
and all your notifications are read.
You've scrolled down your timeline
to a point you've already seen before
and there doesn't seem to be
anything new in the once-infinite
bounds of the Internet.
And then, time stops.
The world around you grows still,
your room is dark, unaccustomed
to the lack of light from your phone.
You can almost hear the quiet
enveloping the room.
Sleep still evades you, and
the very sound of your blankets rustling
wakes you further still.
Your thoughts wander about
as the sky begins to grow brighter,
and your eyelids become heavier.
You drift off to sleep,
and time fast-forwards in your slumber
to make up for the little while
it stopped for you.
Good god, my sleep schedule is terrible.
Harsh Mar 2016
I'm not as religious
as my mom thinks I am.
She teaches other kids
about our shared faith
every Sunday, with me in tow.
It's not that I don't believe
in the gods that she does.
God is supposed to
guide you and inspire you,
and teach, protect, and love you.
So I implore you:
find God in the halls of an art gallery
or in the crashing waves at the beach.
Find God at the bottom of a bottle
or on the top of a skyscraper,
the middle of a forest,
in the words of scholars
or in the cells of life itself.
Call it what you want,
but find God
in everyone
and everything.
Harsh Feb 2016
Dear Distance,

*******.
I'm writing this to you
at 4:30 in the morning
and because of you,
I'm am currently
115 ******* miles away
from the person
I lie awake missing
every ******* night.
Because of you,
when I get lonely
and a hug is all I need
I'm stuck cuddling
a ******* pillow.

But also, thank you.
For teaching me
how to be patient
and showing me that
I can, in fact,
function alone.
Thank you for
making me grateful
and appreciative,
for taking away
what I have
to show me how much
I really do care.
Because of you,
It means much more
whenever I say
"I miss you."

Without wax,
Someone Whose Heart Aches

*P.S. *******.
Third in my Open Letter Series. Let me know what you think!
Harsh Feb 2016
If going to
bed with
you is a
sin, I don't
ever want
to be holy.
The only lightning I'll be struck down by is when your lips
touch my neck. I want to let your love permeate through all
of my soul.
Your lips
would be
my chalice,
and I'd
drink away
my demons;
I'll whisper
confessions
of my love
at night
through
bed-sheet
veils and
heartfelt
prayers.
I'll admit it's a little sacrilegious.
I genuinely spent half an hour trying to get the format right.
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