I am enthralled with the idea
  of gnawing on thoughts
    complicated enough to transform into thought provoking sentences.

I find comfort in the idea
  that i have been given a chance to care after
    the body in which i have inhabited.

I find my thirsty heart, quenched
  as liquid drills its way through the passages of my
    mouth, throat and body.

I am enthralled with the idea that
  i have been given the opportunity to
   create, own, and explore the depths of my existence.

every few months, I try proving myself wrong.
I lay my eyes on someone and make them my center thought.
this time, you are the lucky one.
you are the one who I look for, for lasting conversation.
you are the laugh that I am so deeply wanting to hear for the rest of my days.
your touch is the one that I still feel lingering on my skin even after you have gone.
deep down, I hope that in the process of trying to prove myself wrong, that you would prove that what we have is real... that it is right.
I don't believe in love but I am undeniably in love with the thought of being in love.
so for a few months,
you'll be my lucky one.
you'll be the one I spend my mornings thinking of and my nights wishing to be by your side.
and maybe, I will prove myself wrong.
maybe I won't have to continue finding a new person every few months, to find chemistry with.
maybe the only person I lay eyes on for the rest of time, is you.
perhaps we can prove me wrong.

My voice echoes through a narrow corridor.
Vacant.
My veins slowly begin freezing up into ice.
I feel deeply saddened.
An ache that calls out and receives no reply,
no therapy.
My body shuts down.
As if being controlled by a remote
far out of my reach.
Speak out-
To me.
I ache for someone to tell me it's okay to stop being
strong.
It's okay to be helpless.
For once.
Then
will I feel,
My entire body
Coming alive.
In acceptance.
In fulfillment.
In peace.

All of my pours have opened,
Spilling out a liquid that I didn't know was my own.
My body shudders.
I thought you were vital to me.
But look.
I am still breathing.
A harsh reality that although I was stuck deep in quick sand-
I had a way out.

I stand at the edge of a bay.
I notice the curls in the water,
and the deformity in my appearance.

I stand in front of a mirror.
I notice the cracks in the glass,
and the deformity in my life.

I stand in awe at myself.
It takes one to know pain,
It takes another to know pain
And still want to drown in it.

as I journey back into the depths of my memory
the sun begins to run away
and
the clouds start to loiter throughout the sky

I see glimpses of when you were all i thought I needed
and the short span of time that we were paralyzed in love
my fingers would tremble in your hands
and your lips would rotate this way and that
forming sentences that I had never wanted to hear

all I wanted was to be loved
but as I venture deeper and deeper into those memories,
It pains me to know
our definitions of love were so different
and so complex

it's three in the morning and
for the first time in so long,
the silence that rings in my ears doesn't remind me to think of you.
hours ago, i wondered when I would stop thinking-
when I would stop thinking of you.
yet now I feel strong.
now i feel like I could spend
three seconds, minutes, hours
being tortured by the silence and I'd be unphased.
I'd be unaware of you.

Isn't it fascinating, how some people work?
You could give all of yourself to a person
yet
they still insist on confining you
because of their knowledge that
no matter how far you are
pushed, pulled, dropped, sunk,
Your love for that person goes far beyond all the wrong they put you through.

Isn't it fascinating how
when we are filled with unconditional love for someone,
their empty words and vacant smiles
fill us up.
They fill us up with such happiness and yearn to keep going
We feel as though their presence is what keeps us going

But

Isn't it fascinating how,
One day
We arise in the morning,
And realize
How much we sacrificed
For someone who only found interest
In being loved
Not loving.

Nearly two decades on this earth and the only time I felt love,
it brought pain so intolerable that I bid to myself that I would find love in anything other than human connection.
Yet, age and time has aided in my healing and now I'm filled to the brim with an inconceivable amount of love.
Part of me wants to experience love in the ways that I once felt it, even if the pain will leave injury too deep to heal.
Yet, now that I am older, I know that love isn't supposed to hurt more than it is suppose to heal.
And my mind no longer consists of spiral steps and puzzles.
Two decades on this earth and I have finally begun to understand my emotions..
I have molded myself into someone who is able to give and receive love. I have become someone who is able to become vulnerable without opening airways for toxicity to seep in.
Two decades and I am ready to immerse myself in someone. To uplift someone in the ways that I wish people would have for me, to love in the way that I have never been, and to groom and harvest roots that grow for years.
Now that I am older, now that I have healed from the first, I bid to myself that I will unapologetically love. I will do it with everything in me. I will do it right, I will love raw and whole.

my temptations fall through every time you draw near.
at night, my thoughts find me as i have become restless-
thinking of you equates to temptations that i convince myself are more than fictional and self-made desires.
maybe one day my temptations won't fall through when you draw near.
maybe when i see your smile,
i will act on my urges.
maybe i won't be fearful, instead i will be fearless.
and when that day comes,
my nights will be full with rest and dreams of us as a result of acting out of self-made desires.

I used to be convinced that we were made for one person.
I used to believe that one love was so powerful that it would keep someone investing more and more of their heart until there was nothing left to give.
But now, after 18 years of life I see that love is not constricted to one person.
One heart can be made for more than one person.
In the past four years,
love has found me in three different vessels.
Three different vessels have taken and given me nameless things that I would not have been given from anyone else.
So now I wonder,
how much of my heart will be left once I meet the love meant for the rest of time?
Or will I actually meet a long lasting love or continue to find love in different people?
How many vessels are my heart made for?

I've wasted nights listening to the rain fall so rapidly,
that my head would start to spin from motion sickness.

I wondered,
how could rain fall so fast?

How could anything fall so fast and so helplessly?

But then I thought of you.

You consume my dreams.
The one escape I have is reality.
How is it that,
you've found a way to consume that too.

What is it I want?
I want someone to hold me.
I want someone to know when to start and when to stop.
I want someone to look me in my eyes and tell me it's okay and watch as my heart begins to piece itself back together.
I want someone to be with me constantly, but not say a word.
So I won't be held to a high expectation to keep the laughter echoing and the smiles effortless.
I want them to know that I am not okay, but I am.
What is it I want.
I want someone to hold me.

When the door opens,
spitting rhymes as it creaks ajar
i will stand anxious in hopes that my opportunity has come.

I yearn to live atop a mountain
Overlooking the world.

Life would be quiet.

As I would share company with only but my lonely abode.

I would arise early in the morning to hear the scurrying of animals
and their love to be noticed
and their love to be left alone.

My fear would have stayed back with the door that led me to this.
I would be free.
I would not be imprisoned.
Just as the stars fight through darkness to be seen.
They are not imprisoned either.

When the door opens,
spitting rhymes as it creaks ajar
i will stand anxious in hopes that my opportunity has come.
Nature would suffocate me,
Blurring my old vision,
And defining a new unspeakable vision.

a year ago, i spent most nights engulfing myself in meadows and forests strictly dreamed up through words.
but today,
i have noticed that words don't flow as easily out of my mind;
as i have no inspiration to write like i did before.
tears don't fall as frequently
and i am starting to wonder if you become less susceptible to pain as you age.
i don't stay up late thinking of things that my mind would have drowned me in, a year ago.
i have accepted the changes of early adulthood and i feel less naive and youthful.
I remember being younger and feeling so misunderstood by adults.
"I mean, they used to be my age" I would think, "they should understand more"
but now i see it
now i feel it.
They mature, whether they meant to or not they
matured and forgot what it was to be young.
And for most, they didn't even see that they changed but i saw it.
I am seeing it everyday.
I see it in myself.
I saw it when i picked up a pencil and minutes passed where no meadows and forests had been dreamed up.
I felt it when i was wrapped in a cocoon of blanket and instead of sadness crippling me, i lay thinking of my next pay check and how i was going to spread it out over two weeks evenly.
now, everyone ages in their own way.
everyone loses their youthfulness in different forms.
i noticed through my lack of creativity and inspiration to write.
and in a sense, i am relieved.
because i don't expend energy over things that don't matter,
i breathe easier now,
i see things clearly,
i am more level-headed.
and even though i may be the adult that doesn't understand the child fully,
i haven't forgotten what it is to be young.
as i search for youth constantly
and pick at my brain until i dream up worlds as easily as i had a year ago so that while i age, i don't forget.
youthfulness is beautiful but i believe aging is too.