If you love this air,
I will breathe out everything that is in this cage, so it can be converted into fresher ones, until all of them leave this body. And I would not be at ease, until all the morsels, atoms, come into one with the particles of your being.
If you love the city,
I will build one from scratch, bare hands, stones thrown everywhere for a place of love. With these knuckles bleeding, my blood will then turn into a clear river that runs through the cracks of the town.
If you love the colour green,
I will cut through sticks and stones, to make up a whole grassland, splayed wide enough for a town to come alive, and half a space for a meadow. For the picnic we will have at every noon of every sunny day, just like the ones at the prairies.
If you love the rain,
I will learn to sit still on the pavement, to not quiver and run when it rains. I’ll play in it, regardless of the fear I deeply have for the thunders and lightnings. When it finally comes, I’ll stay closer with you, to feel like I am home— even when standing amidst the chaos that the sky brings.
And if you love me,
I will be me, even when being myself is something I despise at times, when hating myself seems most comfortable. I will start and bring good to myself, to love every piece of my actuality that is scattered like the remnants of a hurricane that stops by every 5 minutes. To be delicately in love with all I have to offer. Because you love me.
May 9, 2017
May 9, 2017 at 9:37 AM UTC
If you love this air,
I will breathe out everything that is in this cage, so it can be converted into fresher ones, until all of them leave this body. And I would not be at ease, until all the morsels, atoms, come into one with the particles of your being.
If you love the city,
I will build one from scratch, bare hands, stones thrown everywhere for a place of love. With these knuckles bleeding, my blood will then turn into a clear river that runs through the cracks of the town.
If you love the colour green,
I will cut through sticks and stones, to make up a whole grassland, splayed wide enough for a town to come alive, and half a space for a meadow. For the picnic we will have at every noon of every sunny day, just like the ones at the prairies.
If you love the rain,
I will learn to sit still on the pavement, to not quiver and run when it rains. I’ll play in it, regardless of the fear I deeply have for the thunders and lightnings. When it finally comes, I’ll stay closer with you, to feel like I am home— even when standing amidst the chaos that the sky brings.
And if you love me,
I will be me, even when being myself is something I despise at times, when hating myself seems most comfortable. I will start and bring good to myself, to love every piece of my actuality that is scattered like the remnants of a hurricane that stops by every 5 minutes. To be delicately in love with all I have to offer. Because you love me.
