Pure bliss, I'd say
Stare into the air
and think of you.

The masterpiece of my own volition.

Stay there,
your breath pressed on the base of my neck,
just above my shoulder.

And I ask you to linger, butterfly,
as I catch some air
and chase the storm.

And apart from my camera,
I also carry our interminable conversations
which I will take out every now and then
to amuse myself and smile alone
while walking down the subway
and thinking of you.

I also carry the scenes of the movies we have watched
and your favourite quote of Robin Williams
and the sound of your guitar strings
traversing the chord of my headphone
as you play a song at 4 o'clock in the morning.
And sang Lucy in the sky with diamonds.

But above all, there are so much more ahead of this
than the stretch of this long, endless road.
All our dreams lay ahead
and plans and all our years.
And those moments of us evaporating in the afternoon delight
or evening sanctuary.
White. Green. Crisp yellow. And burning orange.

So I will embark on a journey.
And I will carry all these with me.
And all these,
all these are certainly heavier
than the backpack on my shoulder.

But I will bring them anyway,
believe in them,
love them
and never let them go.

There’s a thunder inside your chest, Nick.
I can feel the echoes,
as my palm pressed on your shirt.

I wonder how the fabric of your clothes
against my skin feels like
as we lay on your bed
and stare at the ceiling
while the fog clouds the window
and your hands lightly graze my neck
making little circles.

When someone takes a picture of me and asks me to smile,
I will think of you.

*I am in that flash,
that click of the camera,
one that lightly grazed your body,
captures your beauty.