Love hard, my friends. Love noticeably.


Love does not deserve to be shoved under the rug, to be disguised, or to be quieted. Love does not mean conforming to the idea that genuine affection is “sappy,” “cheesy,” or “cringeworthy”; instead-- love loudly.


The world wants to tell you that relationships are to be silenced. That posting multiple photographs of each other is tacky, uncomfortable, and something to make fun of. That devoting time with your favorite human being is disgusting, overbearing-- especially when you are young and the future does not exist in your hands.


Too bad, future. And how unfortunate, world. Because at the end of the day, the world does not own love. You do. It is yours to have, to keep, to share, and to do whatever it takes to hold onto it. It is mine.


When you find love, shout it from the rooftops and frame a million photographs. Post selfies of the two of you smiling wide and unwavering. Wear its colors on your face and shamelessly declare it to the whole universe and beyond: You are in love. You are alive.
And likewise, this is my philosophy: Love intentionally, fiercely, tirelessly.


Love so hard it makes people dizzy. Take it as a compliment. In an exhausted world that spins with violence, hatred, and monstrosity-- praise its joys. Snap those pictures.Tell your friends. Scrapbook it, publish it, make art out of it. Laugh about it, display it, live it. Put an end to the grotesque concept that something so beautiful, perhaps life’s most magnificent, should be sheltered. Let it grow.


This is a declaration. I am boisterously in love. There is no quiet here.
One day, you will find someone or something that your heart will never be able to shut up about. And that’s okay. Let it scream.

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

The lightning pierced through the window
Reminds me of how you and i met.
I started counting the seconds.
One, two, three, four, five-

You are a lightning.
An unexpected arrival, blinding
I can't help but close my eyes
six, seven, eight, nine, ten-

You are a strike of light,
Temporarily stays, then you're gone
Even before i open my eyes
eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.

The thunders roared,
An idea strucked into my mind.
The gap between the lightning and thunder,
Is like the gap of you and me.

The place of sky's turmoil
is far from where i stay.
And so are you,
Far and unreachable from where i am.

I saw you looking at the dark, staring
blankly against the abyss of my identity.
You flashed your smile and held
your arms up high.
Then you grasped your wrist the way
that I would, slowly scratched your
porcelain skin down to your neck,
making that tingling nerve-jacking noise.
As eerie as it may sound, you caught me.
You owned my senses, now I’m a slave to yours.
You played along with your light,
casting shadows and making them dance
on your chest and I felt everything
wrong, right.
You made the light so attractive
that I couldn’t help but give up.
So I slowly walked towards you, one step
before the other then I came all at once.
You wrapped your white scarf around
my nape and you eventually enveloped
my entire entity.
Steam filled every corner of the room as
the light and the dark started flickering.

I can’t sleep when you’re playing with the lights in my head.

Your skin as smooth as petal, pink, close to pale,
A body, slender as ever, just waiting for me to take,
Along with mystery, flaws, the thorns that you claim,
I’ll embrace them all like the sea embraces the rain,
Because if one ought to pluck you from the garden,
Then one must remain undaunted, whatever it takes.

Even after what you’ve said, the flaws and your mishaps,
None of that would ever bother me, I am here all throughout,
Because I am with the most wonderful flower on earth,
And now I crave to kiss your lips and hold you by your waist,
Let go myself, and be intoxicated by your sight,
Tug my body into yours, tight, while whispering you good night.

tell me
what is your truth?
what is the truest thing about you,
boiled down, concentrated
into one sentence?

mine:
i am not here.

most of my thoughts
are in another place,
another world of my own creation
or from a story i once knew.

i stare off into space,
head in the clouds,
not really present.

there is a lingering sense
that i don't belong,
that i'm not meant to be here,
that i am supposed to be
somewhere else,
that i need to be
somewhere else.

my truth?
i am not here.
you are speaking with a shell.
a shadow, a husk,
a liminal form that doesn't matter very much.

i am not here.

h.f.m.

your eyes seem to carry volumes.
deep set inside your sockets, flecked
with fire-light shadows and deep red ocre.

some would see this and think of romance.
your breath traveling against my chin and warming my jawline with humidity. a moaning similar
to the shriek of jungle birds and hoots of primates.

they would see your hand grabbing at my side, and see morning glory vines. your fingertips flashing bright orange similar to honeysuckle.
do you think they see the bruises?

I wonder just how often you weave your love poems into your teeth
when you bite into me.
when you take my flesh into yourself and devour my peace
like a cut from sweet, fruity flesh.
does my submission satisfy you?

or do you have these wild nights with the others?
do you go
out on streets and flash your smile?
do you let your fingers drip down sweet flesh laced with salt and lime juice?
do they open up to you more
willingly?
or do you take their silence as
invitation as well?

from the first moment your
geode lips scrape against my body,
until I am filled with a satisfaction
all your own.
I count three-hundred-and-thirty
seconds.
and during that time the cosmos breath,

and the stars continue to whisper
“goodnight”.