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Golden curtains, sunshine creeping in,
thinking of a lifetime ago that was drenched in sin.
I prefer this calm, this clarity, this peace
  compared to cigarettes, beer and wondering if I would come back
  in one piece.
The world is unkind, worse
where people always scrambled, always, to be the first
the first of what, exactly? What pedestal? What platform?
where brothers and sisters died in the name of reform.
I see the news, the articles, the journalists, the citizens, the protests
every ounce of humanity put to the test,
Black Lives Matter, Black Lives Matter, Black Lives Matter
They always mattered but no one listens, some are scared
All lives cannot matter until they're heard
Until they are seen,
Until they are felt,
Until they are joined.
I spent this day breaking, unlearning, cleaning for a new slate
and studied what I could, from Black creators, and I will remember
this date, particular date.
It does not matter that I turned twenty-five.
It should matter that they should be alive,
It should matter that they should be breathing,
It should matter that they should be here.
Too much, it is too much. Systemic, Jim Crow, Lynching,
the world is unaware of their power, and their fire,
their desire and their right to live, just live

and not be divided by shades of color
different from each other.
I turned 25 on June 3, the eve of the Black Lives Matter protest. It was not the right time to make it all about me, so I dived into reading, watching and listening to content made by Black creators, authors, artists etc. that have fully changed the way I know about racism and how it affects them, every day of their lives, since they were sold as slaves.

The protests don't end. It never did.

May we never become complacent. Ever again.
I think of you
  in the vast, deepest recesses of my mind,
among whirlpools, and fountains
fairy forests and sienna deserts,
Californian sunlit highways,
  anywhere I could find
all the sweetest memories held by the two
of us in these oceanic landscapes.

I think of you
underneath the covers,
in these familiar sheets, on this lonely bed.
Eyes fluttering like shy butterflies,
soft noises and long sighs
embracing a pillow, like how I will hold you close
kissing you everywhere, head, eyelids to the nose
and finally your full lips
to have them part underneath mine
is a flavor I crave for.

I think of you
  miles and miles away,
where lockdowns and quarantines have become a normal
planes are stuck, hotels empty, airports have become ghost towns.
All the worlds' gatherings have been silenced, only nature has become Queen again.
We have resolved to think about what we have done,
in between pages of privilege, empathy, understanding and faith
and like all the people of the world
who are separated by oceans and unfamiliar lands,
I think of you in love,
with light
and with hope
that someday you will come to sleep and wake up in my arms
as I pray to be in yours.
Long Distance Relationships: Pandemic Edition. *******, Coronavirus.
You have no idea about
   the bedrooms in my mind
some full of white sheets
four posters with curtains flying in the wind
some mattresses with patchwork quilts
and others surrounded with trees.
The way our lips would meet
   I am on top of you
   Do you like that, baby
      ....do you like it
          when I do

                    this?

The fantasies in my head are
unfinished scripts
rolls of film
and you are the star
the stage is set
and oh my sweet

to feel you again is paradise
while loving you from afar.
Real talk?
  They say that good love is boring
but not boring where we don't work for it,
boring in a way we know it is calming
it's peaceful here,
with the one you love, see them sit
on a sofa curled up with video games
and the one buried in her book
reciting characters' names.

Boring in the way, where fights are not wanted
where chaos is mistaken for passion
where peace and compromise is needed,
and like the wind, we ride with the season.


Real talk?
  They said that you should complete your partner
I disagree completely.
No one completes you, you complete yourself
because real love starts when you give it to you
until someone comes along and understands
and says, "Hey, I'm doing that too!"
To share in each other's completeness,
in each other's happiness
in each other's awareness,
here, love grows louder, stronger, wiser.

Love does not mean completing each other
finding missing pieces because you're scared of being alone.
Love means fixing yourself first
and having your partner support you
just as long as you are aware of the work
you're meant to do.

Real talk?
We live with the fear that we will lose each other
and we have questions of making it work
but then faith arrives
hope opens the door, whispers sweetly,
"Love is what you live for. Love is life."
We will make it work
because we worked on ourselves
after we lost, fought, cried.
Maybe this time we're wiser
and we have much to learn.

Live for love.
Live for life.
Live for hope.

That's real talk.
Sometimes I get a headache,
because with every sunlight that sings me awake
I think, precariously, in tiptoes
that sometimes this isn't real.
But when the wind blows
through the curtains of my being
my tired eyes are seeing
hope as a feeling.

Sometimes I get a heartache,
because some day we will lose each other
whether it's death or destruction,
distance or overrated prediction.
Is that not the human condition
to love, love and love, love so fiercely
in perfection?
I think of you, often happily
please be my once in a lifetime.

Sometimes I get a stomachache,
because I have discovered how
society's expectations of a love is fake
and that all mindsets have
crumbled under these illusions,
and how disappointments stem from delusions,
and like a buttercup, I peel every petal after petal,
underneath it all,

I love you after all.

-

The dreams have been continuous; I see you
when you were thirteen
or fifteen
or even twenty two.
I see you with your hair in locks,
I see you with your hair in many different mohawks,
and I see you now, without it.
You are so much more now than you used to be,
even though I knew you only by name
as your face was once a blur,
it is now the only clear focus I see
in this world of endless crowds.
In the dreams, I feel the little hairs
on your arms like the night I felt them graze
on mine when we shared that cigarette,
sharing that one secret gaze.
In the dreams, I trace the outline of your lips,
when they touch mine
slowly, softly, sweetly.
Please warm my cold fingertips;
you have no idea how loved you are.
You have nothing to hide,
I am a house with bare walls
and you can stay, stay for as long as you like.
and with every passing evening in this lifetime,
I wish to see every sunrise with you.
My love, my beautiful sun
my moon, my universe and my star.
I hope with a hope
that this is the end
where it no longer feels like a tightrope
waiting to bend
waiting to snap
and it does not feel like a trap.

I hope with a hope
that this is the beginning
of a love that is winning
even when it gets hard.
Because it feels like coming home
after serving many wars.

I hope with a hope
that you will always feel free
to open up to me
all your dark spaces, blurry faces
your fallen graces, your changing paces
because we do not judge people in this house
for all that they have done years ago.

I hope with a hope
that I would catch a hold of my demons,
the monsters and the voices
made of cigarettes and past, **** poor choices,
you do not need to worry, I got this,
because self love in itself, is a war, endless.

I hope with a hope,
that you are the one
belonging to yourself
and walking next to me
feeling like we can walk in the sun
because we can
and we will.
Today had me feeling
like the world was on my shoulders.
Its faded, blue hands, crevices in between
and the fingers felt like glue.
I turned around and saw it dying
dying with the death of humanity
of raging bushfires,
a third bloodbath
a deadly airborne massacre
and the sheer weight of indifference.

for once, I want to be rich
so rich to the point of
not wanting to do with any of the money
and just giving it away to the
ones that need it most.

for once, I want to pour all that is left in my heart
to this world of dying trees,
to this world where animals run away
when they're supposed to run free.

for once, I want to know if God is alive
where is He in all this?
Have you watched us from above?
Do we still have Your love
or are we left to our own devices?

for once, I want to know what is loss of hope
will end when the world is reborn
because for once, I want change
for once, I want love to win
for once, we should care.

for once this world is dead,
where will we all be?
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