i have been dreaming
of us stargazing
i have been longing
of us embracing
although it may seem impossible
i keep on believing
of us, loving
faraway from the galaxies
under the moon and stars, shining.

after years of pondering in musty libraries and public bathrooms and on my bedroom floor i think i finally understand why the face staring back at me in the mirror is so unfamiliar

i am not my dark eyes, i am not my crooked nose, i am not my thin lips, i am not my rosy cheeks

no, i am the hairstyle that my mother taught me how to do before middle school started so that i could take care of myself
i am the love poems that run through my head all day because language is so wonderful and you are so wonderful and sometimes i can't help but experience certain compositions as many times as possible
i am the friendship bracelet that i wear on my wrist that matches with my best friend who would never wear a bracelet in a million years but did it for me
i am the whirlpool of love that exists behind my eyes that shy glances and awkward eye contact put there

i see myself in my fingers mindlessly tapping out rhythms from my favorite songs, not in my tears, but
i see myself in everything i mourn for

i see myself in the money i saved from my grandmother's funeral three years ago because i am too attached to part from it, not in my smile, but
i see myself in my inability to keep a straight face when someone laughs at my jokes

the years of pondering in musty libraries and public bathrooms and on my bedroom floor was worth it because i see myself in those too, more doodles in the margins of the storybook of my life

in the end, i became who i am because of you

I drink the poetry
that flows from your mind
like rivers of honey.
So sweet are your thoughts
and so pure is your soul.

Everyone always expects a butterfly,
When they find that fearless cocoon;
Hanging over certain death,
And inviting a birth from a new womb.
They expect a sunrise to arise,
To dry out their wings and take flight.
Glittering generalities caught in icarus's wings.
People expect the best from your worst,
And you'll expect that that's best.
Yet this expectation leaves us cursed.
Like the monarchs, who dance under the sun;
When moths are birthed, they dance under a dead one.

I reject the notion of expected beauty,
I reject this reality that-
I need to dance in the sun,
Shine bright beneath the trees,
And fly high to melt my wings,
I despise this idea
Because like the moths,
I will dance among the stars
Between the moons of Jupiter,
And sing with selene in the night.

I will burst from my cocoon
Not in your beauty,
But in mine

Unlike the sun
the Moon is two.

There is only one
most glowed up firefly
full moon in the night.

And one more
verily the same one
the blackmoon walker
in pure dark!

I write because...
I can bleed onto something pure
with no judgment or shame,
it does not seek to heal my wounds
nor does it yearn to wipe my tears
it accepts my flaws and imperfections
and allows me to paint my sorrows
to say my words
to feel my pain.

At the end, it is changed forever
no longer pure
no longer blank,
it carries the burdens of my world
with no guilt
with no judgment
with no shame.
And so I write...