for years they have wandered,
they have tip-toed through wonderlands and graveyards,
through cities and villages, through meadows and forests
you can tell from the scars that they were damaged,
that each terrain made a mark on their fragile skin

we spend an absurd amount of attention
on how those marks came to be; not enough
on the middle, who struggles to wash them off

no,

i will not tell you how
they felt as a tiny speck of pink dust
being brought into this enormous universe;
but i can repeat the story of their
breeze of a birth, a breath of fresh air

i will not tell you how
they felt changing addresses;
but i can repeat the story of how
their family packed their bags
and moved two blocks away,
leaving their father to grow
a collection of empty bottles
in his empty apartment

however,

i will tell you of the time
they found a constant star
in their ever-changing sky;
it burned them with each touch,
but they kept coming back,
intoxicated by the light
this star burned too bright for
our flickering lightbulb of a hero

i will tell you of the time
they changed zip codes, twice
in the span of eight months;
lost everything except for
dusty yearbooks,
hidden scars,
and a broken body.
each land pushed our hero
into infectious isolation
our hero began to grow in,
but they wanted to grow out

i will tell you of the time
they stared into another person's eyes;
felt caterpillars crawling
in their stomach,
unsure if they would grow
into moths or butterflies
but these caterpillars
never wove a cocoon
and our hero was left with
wriggling worms in their stomach

i will not tell you of the past
if it does not affect the present.
old scars are no concern;
they are only reminders that
the past was real

this life they lead
is something in-between;
between firsts and lasts
between new scars and old
between beginnings and endings

this origin story is being rewritten.

The stars they often wondered,
In constellations they often clustered,
Until one day they realized,
That they just found their universe.

This beautiful pattern time, space and gravity weave,
It is what is called the universe.
For everyone who looks above,
They are the centre of the universe.

For what was the end of space,
Was the begging of time,
And what emerged from a Big Bang,
Was born from a blackhole.

For what is a lifetime for us,
For him was just a moment,
The only one place we've seen is so timeless,
Imagine about the whole universe.

The invisible force they call gravity,
Even without touching it keeps everything together,
For the universe had to make up for,
The isolation that was left there somehow.

For light years those photons had traveled,
Across an infinite of solitude and emptiness,
Just so that they can create a picture,
And reflect themselves in the iris of an eye.

Everything is always in motion,
It had to expand to thrive and grow,
There is no concept of fixed in the cosmos,
For something moving so fast it's barely moving.

A mind so tiny relative to celestials,
Could think about the entire universe.
The only thing aware of its existence,
The universe is just looking for its purpose.

In the darkness of day
And the light of night
I'll talk to the stars
And listen to the whispers of the wind

As my vision blurs
And time becomes distorted
I'll dance under the eyes of the moon
And sing to the clouds
I'll chase the sun as it sets on the horizon
And as I run I'll get lost in the rush of colors all around

In the depths of white
And the shallows of black
Where the asphalt meets the sidewalk
meets the grass
I'll lay
And stare up at the trees
who'll stare back down at me
We'll have a staring contest
Untill finally I fall asleep

I want something that I cannot have. I cannot have it because I don't truly know what it is. I've seen it polished and propped as if it were on display and I've heard the stories of how much time and effort it took to make it look as such. But I want it. I want love. I want the idea of it at least.
I want the fights brought about by events simpler and less important than the time we wasted to have them. I want to be pained by the sight of her pain and know that the feeling of knives piercing my chest when I see her cry is there because I would literally drive them there myself, if only to prevent her tears.
I want our laughs to intertwine over the smallest things and our conversations to stretch our minds over the biggest. I want to see you sleep at night and I'll smile because I know that you're finally at peace. And I want you to smile when you wake up because you know that I'm fighting to make your reality better than your dreams.
I want love. I want romantic love, I want crazy love. I want passion. I want to pick you up in my arms and in that brief present get lost in your presence. I want to be in you when I am in you and have you wish that I would stay forever. I want to be in your heart and mind, and I want our love to be torturous and blind.
I just want love. I want the idea of it at least.