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She dreamt about you last week.

I nibbled on my breakfast today -- bread and a thinly sliced orange. It seemed enough at the moment, but I snapped somewhere. I let her tell me off for being unreasonable while her hands did dishes the way you taught her to. She never wastes water.

She said you were both running.

This morning she had tiny baby dolls dangling from her ears. Being seen doesn't bother her anymore as much as it used to, but that doesn't matter to you because you always saw her. And I'd like to think you still do. She was beautiful today. And always.

She laughed softly. "Imagine her running," she said. But somehow, I could.

Last week, she got a bright red alarm clock with a built-in radio. Old songs as much as possible, please -- the soundtrack of our late nights. The first night she figured out how to work it, I lay on the bed the same way you used to, one leg crossed and one arm over my eyes, laughing. Did you laugh? I can copy your laugh too, you know.

She said you both knew why you were running.

It's a jungle in there, and I'm not always allowed to explore. But sometimes, she lets me cross a river. Lets me through some vines. And I tell her, "Baby, I'll stand out here with my little torch and wait out the rains. I'll help you map this place out. I'm a little lost in here, but I'm not leaving until these footprints I'm following lead me right next to you." She just smiles. Did you know that your footprints are there, too? They're all over the place.

She said you made it into each other's arms.

I hadn't cried over you in a long, long time but that Sunday morning I drew her in close and we dampened each other's shoulders. Laughed a little. Cried some more. Got dressed. Carried on.

I miss having you in my dreams too, but it was nice of you to say hello. Know that you are always welcome. Maybe next time you'll stay a bit longer. We'll have your coffee ready.

Thank you. Please, come again.
Her gravestone says "You will always be loved". Miss you, Lola Chichi. Just when I thought I had nothing to write about you anymore, this poem came.
For the days we have known each other,
I have come to the conclusion that there
Is something wrong with your eyes, because
Where you see brokenness, I see strength
Holding all your pieces together.
Where you see scars, I see tattoos of triumph,
Stories of how you fought,
Stories of how you lived each battle through.
Where you see ugly, I see beauty in places
You refuse to turn your head to, why
Won’t you turn your head to see
How I see you?
See, you have seen far too many hellos
And even more goodbyes to believe
That I am here to stay.
And I
Am here to stay.

Brother, my hands are here to catch
Whatever falls out of your storms.
I myself have been a storm far too many times
To run away when your rains start to pour.
My feet are ready to come chasing after you
When you stray too far away from home,
And as long as there is breath in my lungs
I swear I will never let you stay lost.
Because I
Am here to stay.

Till the day the world runs out of will to spin one more round,
Till the day the waves stop running back to shore,
Till the day mother and father and sister and brother forget each other’s faces,
Till the day of judgment,
Till the day of blood and trial,
Till the day of denial,
I will stay.
I will stay.
I will stay.
A poem written for my cousin Jaime Morados' short film, Till the Day of Denial.
Don't listen to me when I say
I didn't see you look my way
Because the flowers sprung abloom
The moment you entered the room

Don't believe me when I run
It's confrontations that I shun
That drive my mind to gears away
From safe zones where I've ought to stay

Don't listen to me since I tried
To bear the feelings that I hide
Which stem from years of risks unclaimed
And in this stalemate, we remained

Don't listen to my mouth's white lies
But look to the joy in my eyes
For it is in them you will see
The message meant for only thee
For Trish
The person you meet at the wrong time is not for you to have.

You never meet the right person at the wrong time;
the right person for you is, in a word, timeless.

The person you're destined for is timeless.
You won't have to struggle with time, or any force of nature, to be with that person.
It just comes just as easy as Love itself, seamless and organic.

I'll wait.
If time is not on my side right now,
I'll wait.
So if ever there was a chance that you are the right person, I don't want my impatience or immaturity to cause you to become the wrong one.
I've heard many jewels and gems
Flow out of your lips but
My favorite one of all those treasures
Is this simple, tiny pearl:
This word


A beautiful word that fell on my listening ears
On one of those countless,
Yet no less precious Friday nights
Huddled together in a small group made up of giants

Though I try
I can't recall what the topic was on that certain evening
But that word stayed with me
like postage stamps on love letters
Because for me,
That word best describes you

I see it in the photographs
you take so carefully
With those crafty fingers
You capture novels
with those simple objects and moments
You are an artist and a story teller

I feel it in your tight embrace
Your arms that are ever open and welcoming
And darling,
I'm beyind happy and thankful
That through the long and wild years
Your arms never became weary
In holding on to me

I see it in your smile:
A constant overflow from your heart
It's engraved on your lips and
No hot and tiring day or cold and dark night
Can ever wear it away
I know well that
Hope Himself has made your heart His home
And He has set to flame galaxies
In your bright and burning eyes

This air you breathe
Gets exhaled as some sweet aroma
With the rise and fall of your lungs
I'd be lying to call you unique because
That's a mere understatement
Your very being
Spells "different" differently

As you enter this new year,
This new leg in your journey,
Please do continue to splash
Color on the lives of others
As you dance with the Father
And may your eyes continue to reflect
The beauty of Creation
And the glory of the Creator

Always remember that I am with you
Through hilltops and valleys
And stormy skies and summer days
We can turn this world upside-down
And see it,
Give it
A different
a gift to my friend on her 18th birthday
Woman, you have the backbone of an earth
and a faith that Abraham would have marvelled at.
You walk and you follow with your eyes above ground,
your feet leave imprints of peace.
Woman, you laugh at the sun
You bathe in rays that scorch because you know
That pain only lasts through the night.
You of all people know what it's like to have beauty rise from ashes.
"It's not the constant adventures,
But everyday gestures

It's not what you bring to the table,
But bring out in your partner

It's not proven to the world
But to each other."
From Noelle
You are so much more than a pair of green eyes.
Your heart is golden but sometimes your thoughts dull its shine.
It might take some rain and maybe even a thunderstorm, but I promise you,
It will be worth far more than the pain
to see you
see for the first time.
And you are nearing that day.
One day you will fix more than just people's teeth.
I miss the boy who sells fruit in a place where people say no good comes out of. I miss his shorts that look like fields ripe with harvest and his ocean of a t-shirt.

I miss his little mop of wavy black hair, his green eyes that become crystals in the sunlight and deepen in its absence.

Is your name Garik? Or is it Garo? Or am I getting you mixed up with someone else? I may have forgotten the symbols for which represent you but I will never forget what made you you to me, here:

Your smile as wide as the watermelons you sell. Your heart warmer than the strong coffee your mother makes. Your scrawny legs that always made their way a little closer to me no matter what time of the day it was and your voice that crossed oceans with a melody that sang "We are here."

And we were.

We were two people-- you of pomegranates and fresh sunflower seeds and I of mangoes and mangosteens, two entirely different shades of earth, you with your snow flakes and I with my sun rays, you with your black robed monks and I with my white clothed priests, yet there we were.

Oh brave little boy, I love how different doesn’t scare you.

My slanted eyes did not seem strange you, nor did you question why my skin looks like the browned sides of baked bread compared to the floury white of your arms. You did not find it funny that I must be at least five years older than you are yet must be at least half a head shorter. It did not matter to you that the only words we had to give each other in the same tongue were “Hello!”, “How are you?”, “What is your name?”, “Where are you from?” because sometimes those words are all it takes to make your way into someone’s heart and stay.

As for mine, stay you did. Language, cultural, socio-economic barriers were nothing to you.

Instead, you simply played the boy who wanted to know the girl. And so I played the girl who responded, the girl who saw the boy's clouds of smoke in the sky spelling out "We are here.”

And we were.

And it’s been three months.

Now you are there.

And I am here.

But to you, it's the other way around. Because here is a matter of who is telling the story. Maybe we will never again be characters in the same chapter. Or maybe we will be. And maybe I am counting the pages until for us, here is right where we both are.
Aystegh. Here.

For everyone who's ever missed someone they never really knew-- whether it be that school guard who was transferred somewhere else or that cashier at a fast food restaurant who was there every time you went.

This poem is for that little boy I met in Armenia who sold fruits in front of my friend's house. He would greet me everytime I passed by him. I hope you still remember me the next time I see you.
You have a gaze that imprisons,
the kind that no one would ever want to leave,
yet they dart here and there, don’t
you see your purpose?
He is not your purpose and he doesn’t see it
Do not let his gaze imprison you.
One day, you will no longer see yourself inside a prison. You will learn that you are exactly where you should be and when that day comes, I will teach you how to make a piano sing, just like I promised.
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