It doesn't matter
How deep the water is if
You're drowning in it

Sometimes, I hear a song
through someone
else’s headphones,
 too quiet to name
 but loud enough to feel.

I never ask what it is.
Letting it stay anonymous
 feels more honest.
It’s not mine.
I was just near it.

A violin behind a closed door
  in an apartment I’ll never enter.
Footsteps on an old wooden floor above me
  like a rhythm nobody meant to write.
A man humming in the metro
  not to perform,
  but because he’s alone
    and forgot the world has ears.

There are moments I’ve been completely undone
  by a melody I never fully heard.

Half of it lost to the train.
Half of it blurred by walls.
But something in me
  was tuned
    just right
      to catch what escaped.

We think music is what’s played.
But maybe it’s also what passes through
      when we weren’t looking.
      When we didn’t try to hold it.
      Or name it.
      Or own it.

Maybe we write to
make ourselves feel better

about the pain,
heartache
and every other
torturous infliction
that gnaws at our insides

Maybe we write to
survive the torture

because,
instead of screaming on the underground
or crying at dinner
we wait for the confines of paper
or thumbs to Notes.

Maybe we write
because we know
nothing else

isn't that ironic?

We know nothing.
Maybe that's why we write.

We are all suns
In our solar system

Some suns are arrogant
Only caring about themselves
They exclaim
"I'm the biggest one!"

And some suns are kind
Hating some
But loving most
They exclaim
"We are all stars
We should all be one"

i was five years-
mabye 8-
i dont know
but i lost him
and i
        lost
              myself
                         too
ah mon grandpere
tu es tres important
je
          deteste
                              toi

why did you leave
i needed you
dad needed you
but most of all
you needed you

need not do a thing
to keep this love burning

just breathe and live
With all the love you have to give

even if it's not for me
let it to bloom where it longs to be

I'll still be happy