When I was little
I wanted to write romance novels
It was all I read
But my heart won’t let me
No matter how many love stories I start
My soulmate is poetry

fingernails to rock
crawling up this mountain,
sweat fills the air, my cheeks
flushed, embarrassed of how
much effort it takes me to
deal with this burden but it's
okay, as long as I make it
one more day. I will have won
the race against myself.

Je n’entends pas la pluie mais en regardant sous les lampadaires, je
la vois.
Auprès de moi, Andrea. Où est-ce mon imagination, déjà ? Mon fantasme ?
Comme ce premier et dernier baiser échangé au moment de la quitter dans la rue, hier.
Je ne me suis pas retourné.
—
Je pense à elle avec tendresse. Déjà avec nostalgie, comme incertain du futur
Je veux la retrouver à son appartement, Ville du Mexique. 2025.
Me enamoré de una mujer.
—
Andrea, elle semble être la réponse à ces nombreuses récentes interrogations
Qui me torturaient, un peu.
L’Amour n’est certainement pas pragmatique mais transcendant.
Me perdre dans ses bras, j’en rêve.
Qu’elle absorbe mes inquiétudes, me les échange avec un repos digne de la mort.
Quoi de plus ?
Peau contre peau, ses longs cheveux et son rire incontrôlé.
La pluie qui se veut silencieuse face aux lampadaires traîtres.
Suis-je en train de me fabriquer un oasis d’illusions les yeux ouverts ?
M’attend-elle ?
—
Mon reflet apparaît dans la vitre et j’aperçois une multitude de possibilités.
Auxquelles aucune je ne semble être en mesure de saisir
« Le cœur a ses raisons que la raison ne connaît point. »

I know there's no such thing as forever.

Intimately I have it carved into my heart
flecks of scars line my soul, deep in my
veins. Yet I treasure every single moment,
every laugh, every smile I give you.

I could never give you enough, tiny paper
scraps I offer, and you take them so
delicately. You help me breathe when I
forget who I am. You bring me back to
Earth when I go to float away.

I know we're not eternal.
But it doesn't matter.

All I can promise you is this moment,
and it's all you can promise me back.
That's enough.

It was always enough.

Still sitting here after all these years
Thinking of nothing much at all
Nothing much runs through my mind
If I were to make that call

With nothing much to do
And even less to see
Nothing much is all I have
If you were to question me

Nothing much I must say
Ever gets in the way
Of the feelings in which I’m dealing
On a daily base

If there’s ever a need to try and keep
All of this in play
I’d have to lean on nothing much, you see
Then mosey on along my way

I am so many, many parts
Of the same broken vase
I hold my weight
Disproportionally
And tilt
Asymetrically
I'm still art
Some of the pieces have been mend
Some of the lines are liquid gold
But we all hold
The pain
Compartmentalized
Surgically removed the warmth
From the heart and
The sad
From the mouth and
The pain
From the brain and
Surgically scatterend them across
And just like the memory is always one
And always weights the same
So is the person
One.
Unique and
Worth the same.

a person with an unimaginable power to fall, rise, and keep going.
a person who cries, who suffers, who feels the seismic shakes of life and is still here
in the land of the living.
a person who can be whoever they want to be.
a person who can be light and love.