I wish to make this promise:
of reaching through the grief-stricken years,
and into the parts of my soul that have been blessed
with a love I have never beheld.
And through this, encounter a willing piece,
that i can offer entirely to you,
until my whole being complies.
I wish to make this promise:
that I can soon release the fear I have been embracing
since i had the strength to hold on.
"I'm so paranoid about the past,
I can't seem to realize you are my future."
These are the words you spoke to me,
But that very paranoia suffocates me as well.
This is the promise I wish to make:
that I will practice deep-breathing
until I am yours.

A ghost.
Caught in the middle road -
between you and me.
And I'm haunted on this earth,
in sleep and in my earliest waking hours,
or when I'm least expectant,
or every time I blink.
Hear my cry:
Take these ghosts from me,
take it all away.
And you do, my love, you do.
With every close embrace,
there's simply no space
for any ghost between.
With every tear upon my cheek,
they escape,
and soon I'll be free.

I'll always love my mother.
But I yearn to be drastically different
in the ways that I love my children.
Time and energy.
Interest and equality.
Authenticity.
Truly,  I am aware of the difficulties my mother endures.
And I can only offer prayers to Him who listens,
that I will be able to devote myself entirely.
Each child will be aware of my deep love,
compassion and care.
And never will it be a question in their young minds.
This is my prayer to Him who listens.
That I will love drastically differently,
with all of my heart.

"Don't love him!" they screamed.
But they choked on their words,
on their own vile hipocracy rising up from their chests.
There was no love there.
And I was disgusted with those complaints,
and the bitter words of my father resounded in my heart.
No, I would never love the way you "loved".

A love like my brother's was the love I strived after.
A love so pure, innocent, and profound.
True.
And it was through this realization that I recognized my fault.
Not through orders from those insincere in their own actions.
I search for that beautiful, God-given love,
but the faith I had clung to so tightly is slipping away,
through my now feeble grasp.
Still I will never love the way he did;
nor engage in such a love.

I hate that picture of us.
I despise it because I know now,
you did not love me in that particular moment.
You lied through gritted teeth,
and a smile that made me love you like no other.
And I believed you.
*I believed you.

And I came to realize that all these common eyes of brown ever wanted was to gaze upon the marvelous sight of you.
For a time my only concern was the vast cosmos,
and my mind attempted constantly to comprehend it.
But had the foolishness finally fled from my heart?
It posed as the wise one when it turned my focus to you.
And I fell for the sun's rays in the depth of your eyes
and concluded that I was interested only in the constellations formed from the freckles scattered on your cheeks.
The only space that fascinated me was the space existing between your fingers.
Yes, I assumed that my senseless heart had regained its wit.
Little did I know.
For once a stargazer, always a stargazer,
and my heart had become a fool for the universe in you.

To no one really,
I saw her again... and I loved it... I couldn't help it. She was there tonight. A white dress ******* in the back in the most childlike manner, and soft brown curls loosely falling upon light blue lace. She looked different. Perhaps she had matured since we had last seen each other... (but that wasn't very long ago). And yet there existed still a sense of familiarity, which I did not doubt would remain. We talked very little and I guessed she had forgotten about us. After all, it was years ago. But then she pulled on my hand with that same mischievous grin and dragged me to the floor. We laughed like we used to and danced for the first time. I had never been that close to her.

I saw her again... and I loved it... I couldn't help it. She stood at the bottom of my stairwell. She was watching our parents speak - so "attentively". But I knew she wasn't listening. Her attention span is far too short for meaningless small talk. My eyes always found their way back to her. Sometimes for a second, and then sometimes I would forget to look away... But she would remind me by glancing over at me. Why did I cross her mind?

I saw her again... and I loved it... I couldn't help it. We'd been keeping in touch for the first time in forever. She was there. The same girl I had always known. Straight hair and bright eyes, always with the widest smile. We spent the entire night together. Teasing, Playing, Laughing. Always laughing. And we danced. Was I the only one with tears in my eyes? I couldn't have been the only one with shaky hands and a wild heart.

I know I'll see her again... and I know I'll love it... I love her... I can't help it.