In the evening, We will march
We will feel anger for the times they told Us
We were not enough
and mournful for the times We believed them

In the evening, We will march
down the cobblestone streets-
dusk walking quietly but quickly next to Us
Our spirits will be high but Our voices even higher

In the evening, We will march
not just for Our daughters and Our mothers
but for Our sons and fathers too
who crave solidarity for peace

In the evening, We will march
holding hands and singing
together as one-
the bells will be ringing.

Maybe
Just maybe you would've liked me
If you had spent less time liking yourself

You ask of others
what you are not willing to do
each time you ask another to love you
when you do not yet love yourself
(For if you did, you would not ask)

And yet each day I watch you wander,
walking the lines of someone else’s shores
searching for a foothold among rocks and sand

Though within you there are boundless oceans
with light and hues you’ve not even yet imagined
that remain completely unexplored

You’ve not begun to swim their depths
as you are too busy trolling the shallows
of someone else’s refracted image
of the self that they don’t know

Worry not about painting the sky
with someone else’s color
and find now your own palette -
the one that is yours uniquely
not yet discovered, for it will
only be found when you
find it within your self

Journey within and you will see that
the kingdoms that you are seeking are
also seeking you

You are the ultimate mystery of this lifetime
the grandest adventure of them all
the undiscovered continent hiding in plain sight

Love has not abandoned you
it is within you waiting to be discovered
please stop asking others why they won’t love you
And start asking that of yourself

I can't see you, but I see you
I don't know you but I know you
When you let me I will love you
just as deeply as you love yourself
and we will swim your oceans together

Love does not make you vulnerable,
it makes you invincible

this infatuation follows me everywhere
—a ghost that does not realize it is dead.
it is still convinced it has some life left,
it is still convinced it is welcome in the home
you let it thrive in until there was nothing left to feed it.
it is still convinced you wanted it to live;
it is still convinced you cared enough to try.
the difference between our graveyards
is you never had anything to bury.

I still put flowers by our potential.
I still water a garden of wilting plants
that look like the first time you didn't say good morning,
that look like the waning smile on your lips,
that look like the hesitation when I asked
if you ever felt anything at all.
they keep withering
until the only remnant of our relationship
is a headstone that reads
here: lies.

I met a mysterious man
It was love at first sight

Thought he was charming
Things weren't quite right

He spoke to me romantic
Pure seduction in my eyes

I loved the way he kissed
It taste of such sweet lies

He gazed deep to my soul
He said I was perfection

Yet it was not me he spoke
But to his own reflection

He was a man so confident
Sure no one could disagree

So naive I was for thinking
That you could ever love me

Now I find myself silenced
A little lost book in a shelf

A Narcissist can not love
Except their beautiful self

I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.

I love you only because it's you the one I love;
I hate you deeply, and hating you
Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

Maybe January light will consume
My heart with its cruel
Ray, stealing my key to true calm.

In this part of the story I am the one who
Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,
Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood.

1680

Sometimes with the Heart
Seldom with the Soul
Scarcer once with the Might
Few—love at all.