we spilled my thoughts
into a thousand coffee cups
across your bedroom floor and
we drank them all.
all that night i stared through your skylight
searching for a constellation big enough
to describe us.

even in our best
light, we, as humans
are irrepressible

even in bodies
made of stardust,
bodies that aren't ours

at all,
we still are
wildfires

think, what
is ours,
what is truly ours?

and what is impermanent
as the stars in sky
just ready to collapse?

there are rivers of us
on earth,
there are bodies who has dissolved

into said river,
and filled everything up
into some unholy flood

even in our best light,
we as humans
are irresponsible

isn't it funny
how nothing
is real?

even though i don't understand,
i've watched him love you hard.

i've felt Olympus shake and i've
created supernovas on his behalf,
steadied my arrows and called out to my galaxies-
but, consistently, he quells me quiet and it's always then that i see it-
the warrior he is demands he doesn't give up on a battle
and Ares has been chasing Aphrodite too long to set a better example and i
hate to say it
but it's alarmingly beautiful.

father may have made a star,
but that lionheart made you a sun.


i have long preached that perfection takes time,
that my mother has a love so pure and perfect set aside for her,
but her heart caught on you.

war is love and love is war -
she has weathered battles in your name and each time i try to end the fight,
lay the final blow
she quiets my furies
with a hand on my chest and music in my ears.

Apollo has been chasing dawn too long to teach the lesson of patience,
but you were her dawn and mornings aren't the same, anymore.

she sings songs of you at daybreak
and i hum songs of war.
she pretends she isn't missing her star.
i try not to miss the sun.

an ambition, a dream
pumped up hearts and faith
we are not as different as them

in the rain, we shivered
when duty calls they say we are brave
but our hands shakes as we gripped the spear

is it the blood,
or is it death?
what of this fear we cannot take?

the droplets turned to angry music
we were terrified
of what?

too scared to lose a roof in the storm
anxiety creeps on our beds
we are sleepless again

our comfort is not ours to keep
because life is a battle
where no one really wins

warm weathers with a warmer heart:
i stretched out my arms
and embraced her with all i am.
this girl threw an ocean of words,
of images, of emotions, and even of silence at me
over a mango shake, kimchi fishcake,
and a pair of hot matcha lattes.
she challenged me to a doodle dare
when i told her i don't draw humanity,
as much as i wanted to draw her right there on the spot.
let's draw those people on that side of the cafe
ah, a people-watching activity!
just our kind of hobby that immerses us within society
while being in our own little world!
i noticed she draws people first
then the background according to the proportions of the persons;
yes, a people-watcher observing another people-watcher
unlike me who starts off with the walls and furniture of the space.
she drew the ovals for body proportions;
her pencil marks done gently, focused and magnified,
much like how she holds herself up.
thus we were satisfied with unfinished sketches
and incomplete acapella song covers;
and it definitely was a finished day–
complete with her presence,
photographs taken with cameras and our memory's eyes,
inside jokes about boys and talks about life outside.
the sun is getting lower
as the hour hand is getting higher.

Time continues but we paused.
So I'm up for another round with you, Lou.