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2 am, sitting on a desktop computer
staring at words that fall into the cracks inside my brain
i am wondering where this is going
for so long, i have been wandering aimlessly
misguided in direction, and stumbling into spaces
that have yet to make room for the thoughts in my head.
so long- i have been hiding
and rushing out the door whenever i feel things get too close.
there is an intimacy in knowing
that you are lying awake
a few miles away-
cramming your head with stories
of outdoor adventures and ridiculous-looking creatures
from middle earth,
and contemplating why it is that you are still alone
even though i am sure it is not just me you have enchanted
with your magic, your spell.

your wisdom, your intellect
will keep me spinning fantasies of my own
for years to come
and for now, we have yet
till our threads find a reason to intertwine.
perhaps you are worlds away,
and i am stuck in the confines of four walls and my utter inability to keep up a conversation
but i am fascinated by the idea
that once upon a time,
i fell into the woods,
stumbled straight into you,
and we wandered through the forest together-
chasing rabbits into wonderland,
and climbing trees that stretched out towards the sun.
when i find myself falling deeper into the unknown,
there is clarity and light
in knowing that i found you once
when i had very much set up camp
in the land of the lost.
it was quite the lightest i had felt
in a really long time.

and to be quite honest,
i miss you.

and i guess that's all i wish you knew.
i hope my thoughts are loud enough
that they travel through.
you silly, crazy boy-
you'll change the world someday,
so i'll keep my window open
hoping on some stagnant afternoon
you find yourself staring at the trees
and are reminded a little
of your time lost in the woods
with a girl and her eternal
words of awe and admiration
of the being of you.
if i could speak louder,
i would.
but some things
are a little lost in translation
when you are too busy
finding home away from the trees,
and i am too hopeful
that this right here,
is more than good enough for me.
Imara Vaglez Sep 21
when i imagine
the way i will fall in love
it always begins with
a single look,
a fleeting glance
taken in the presence
of the blind.

unbeknownst to me,
you have stolen a peek
while i was busy staring
at the bruises on my knees.
my words are bent and folded
like crumpled pieces of paper
balled up below my wrists
because your expression
has rendered speech obsolete.

i think to myself
this is a cinema scene.
it could not possibly
be true-
because this feeling must be
reserved only for the holy
and the beautiful
and not for lowly pilgrims
stuck in this never-ending labyrinth
of life,
cursed to stumble
through to dead ends
and shady corners.

where the preachers go
to pray,
and the mothers hurry
to weep in secret,
where the lovers flee
to lock lips,
where my brother
hides to breathe-
there are some places
we keep a secret.
we call them home.
we call them sanctuary.
they are mere nooks
and crannies
and temporal spaces
inflated with meaning,
yet they inject
some sense of nostalgia
into the tapestry of our universe.

this is safe.
this is sacred.
this is where i grew to love,
and i will never forget
to offer a prayer
every time i walk past
this monument of my memory,
for once upon another time
its soil had kissed
the soles of your feet,
and its air
had been electric with the energy
of your soul.

every atom of you
once occupied this little space.
it is sacrosanct,
in every sense of the word-
my muse,
my god,
my love.

but i digress-
what i mean to say
is your eyes are traveling
into the depths of my soul,
and our throats are parched,
our lips are chapped
as we tread this desert land.
and the mountains are crumbling,
and the hurricanes are stealing away
the air in our lungs,
and the whole universe
is collapsing into silt
and fairy dust,
and still-
you are looking at me.
and the world
in all its chaotic glory
is some kind of beautiful.
what happens when i let my mind run away from me

in this world
there is only you
and me.
and i-
dear god,
i am reminded
of why i pretend
that more exists
beyond the depth
of our perception,
because if i cannot have you here
perhaps in my dreams
we can keep our pesky eyes
as we have every
obedient part
of our bodies.
Imara Vaglez Sep 20
today i learned to fall in love
with who i was
she was eccentric
dynamic and lit by a spark
she was candid
and laughed more than she spoke
she was awkward
and a little socially inept
but charmed the pants off
most of the people she met
she was excited
and filled with the vigor
of life
drunk on a sense of adventure
and so so
**** hopeful
it's a shame
to see how she's grown
a little less sparkly
a little less bright
a lot more real
and grounded
and entirely different
from the former she
there are lifetimes we live
within other lifetimes
and they become us
as much as we are them
but we can never resurrect
she who has died
so that we may live
Imara Vaglez Sep 11
when we are told
we will make something of ourselves
we find ourselves
treading towards life
with a stubborn sense
of determination to carry on
even when the universe
is blatantly opposed
to the plan we've set
there is a voice inside
that keeps me hoping against hope
and saying
**** the odds
i'll carry on until the end
perhaps it is a way
of setting myself up for
but is it not better to fail trying
than to never try at all?
Imara Vaglez Aug 11
i imagine we're a little like lines
stretching out into the universe,
always on the same path
but never quite crossing.
we've been treading this crooked road
for quite some time now,
and i've got a little theory
i don't take too lightly,
but i think our souls were meant
to find each other.
i quite honestly
cannot imagine my life without you.
and in these endless days
and months of static quiet,
i find my mind racing back to you
and searching for moments
when these sparks collide
like little pinpricks
poking at my heart
and telling me—
this is not a boy you meet every day.
all the signs are pointing
straight to you
but these walls are built a little too thick
and i can't seem to pummel through.
help me understand
what it is i need to do
for you to let me in
because i can't stop thinking
about the sentences you write,
and the stories you tell,
and the words that cross your mind.
when you lie awake at night,
where do your dreams take you?
whose thoughts do you haunt?
where am i
in this convoluted head of yours?
where do i keep my heart
when every bated breath
is spent imagining another timeline
where we had met a little sooner,
where you had chosen me
without another thought,
where i could make you much happier
and keep the shadows at bay.
in this humid, crowded space,
this rambunctious roar of emotions,
this bursting flurry of delusion,
this flimsy daytime dreaming
is what keeps me holding on.
there's space for us, darling,
somewhere in the other-verse.
hold on tight.
i'll see you in another time.
can't stop thinking about you. thought i'd put it in words.
Imara Vaglez Aug 11
creaky steps
slanted ceilings
musty air
frantic feelings

creaky steps
and painted walls
empty spaces
lonely halls

little shoebox
collecting dust
iron heart
left to rust
Imara Vaglez May 31
growing up, we were told countless stories-
of high castles and kings and queens,
of kids rising up against oppressive regimes,
of living in dystopian societies and overthrowing dictators.
today we fight a battle not even the stars could have foreseen.
injustice plagues our lands,
and good and evil has never been a line so clearly drawn.
we feel as if every new plot twist is an end of a chapter,
but the hill has never been steeper and the end seems a breath away.
it’s no wonder we grew into warriors-
we’ve sharpened our eyes and fortified our defenses,
we’ve sent our people to war and set the fuse- waiting for it to spread like wildfire,
we’ve raided artilleries and loaded our weapons-
we grew into warriors because we know no other way,
because the choice to stay silent is a privilege we can’t afford,
because people are dying on the streets and our “protectors” walk free while their hands are soaked in our blood.
what other world would we have known had our futures not been taken- stolen away in broad daylight?
there is a battle waging everywhere we turn,
and no matter what we do
it seems we are on the losing end.
what will happen if we leave today?
will somebody take a stand in our place?
perhaps tomorrow our children will not have to know a world where their father’s bodies line the streets,
perhaps one day these stories will be nothing but stories- tales we tell to send them to sleep,
perhaps when they dream they will not have to look far from reality.
or perhaps tomorrow they will grow into warriors, too-
hardened by the stories their ancestors told,
weapons in hand, forged in the fires of days past, and passed down from generation to generation,
ready to storm the villain’s lair through the path built by the bricks hurled at their mother's heads
as they chanted for justice outside the palace gates.
perhaps one day they will get lucky-
for luck is all we can rely on when hope has turned a blind eye.
tomorrow may be our day...
till then the hum of the distant drums grows louder.
one day,
one day,
one day-
we will finally win the war.
trying to put the past few weeks into words is like picking at a loose thread only to find it unravel the entire tapestry. we are fighting wars that are generations old, still in the time of a crisis. because we let the old normal continue on as it was until it snowballed into this disaster. it honestly feels like a losing battle, and no, it honestly does not seem like it will get better from here, but as long as we keep fighting, maybe someday these days will be nothing but cautionary tales of a land never to return.
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