It's the first of the year,
and the only resolution
I can think of
is that I wanna
fall in love.

Not the kind
that's unrequited,
the sort of love that's uninvited.

Not the kind
that hurts
that leaves you
so mangled and broken
you never wanna
love again.

Not the kind
that makes you mean,
the kind without trust
that makes you green
with envy.

Not the kind
that is forbidden,
that you gotta hide.

The kinda love
I wanna find
is the kind
that consumes me,
that fuels me,
that moves me.

The up-all-night
bearing our souls,
the non-stop laughter,
beautiful disaster,
I show you all my flaws,
you love me with no makeup on,
that's our song,
you leave me words on post-its,
we hold hands just because,
and all my poetry is
happy.

In 2015 I wanna
find someone who touches my soul,
who lets me touch his back,
who unfolds into my arms
and lets me share my fears.
I want love
that's real,
that's deep,
that's too good to be true.

In 2015
I wanna fall in love,
I wanna find my
y-o-u.

I will always remember the day Grandma exclaimed how much of a joy my brother was. She would call him her perfect little flower.

As a child, it didn't mean much to me. But as I grew older, I came to realize the truth behind her words...

He was a daisy blooming in the spring. Where as I, a dead rose, slowly withering away. However, it wasn’t my choice, nor was it my brothers

Because a flower doesn’t get to choose what it grows into. It’s gardener determines how to raise it, how to treat it, and how to tend to it's individual needs.

Society was my gardener.

My point is, society labeled me as a dying rose, so eventually, I believed them.

'In China there lived a little man,
His name was Chingery Wangery Chan.'

'His legs were short, his feet were small,
And this little man could not walk at all.'

'Chingery changery ri co day,
Ekel tekel happy man;
Uron odesko canty oh, oh,
Gallopy wallopy China go.'


'Miss Ki Hi was short and squat,
She had money and he had not
So off to her he resolved to go,
And play her a tune on his little banjo.'


'Whang fun li,
Tang hua ki,
Hong Kong do ra me!
Ah sin lo,
Pan to fo,
Tsing up chin leute!'

'Miss Ki Hi heard his notes of love,
And held her wash-bowl up above
It fell upon the little man,
And this was the end of Chingery Chan,'