love looks like you

Some loves only taste better in the wee hours of the morning, in between gasping sheets, only teaching you how to bruise in places nobody sees. Those loves only know how to pick you up without caring how you fall. It’s easy to get lost in the kind of love that does nothing but make you crave for more.

Most loves know how to create a look they say are just for you. They write you letters in your sleep, whispering words about the world conspired for you to meet. Those loves hold your hand tight when you’re shaking but they never let you hold theirs. When it’s late, and the sun has bid his ways, those loves tell you every song is about you. Every line ever drawn has tried to mimic you. Every poem spells out your name. Those loves smile softly, then you never see them again.

When I met your love, I did not know what to think. I did not understand the way my bones wanted to rest alongside yours for as long as you’d allow. I did not understand the way I did not demand to be loved, but I was and I am loved by you so ardently that there isn’t a single piece of me that doubts it. Your love is the kind of love that must be written by something higher than you and I could ever imagine because how else can anybody explain the way I ache and long for your warmth so much it brings me to my knees? I talk to God about the way I love you and I cry.

I never understood why I’d cry.

There are loves that leave us, and there are loves that stay with us. Your love is neither. Your love, I think, has always been here, with me. When we’re tangled with each other like this, I understand that there are loves deeper than the sea.

There are loves that are meant to be, just like you and me.



come lay with me

Come lay with me, and let us count the number of times our chests rise and fall. We both have wandered around for too long. Come lay with me, so I can feel your smile against my skin, so that when I wake, I will have nothing to fear. Come lay with me, and let us softly etch the words I love you when our lips meet.

I have grown tired of the way the sun rises to peek. Come lay with me, and sleep all through the night. Let me show you the way stars burst and die and how they reborn again on repeat.

I have loved nothing in this lifetime the way that I love you, and I will not love anything in the next as much as I love you today. Every shadow of who I used to be was always meant to be here, beside you. So come lay with me, and come home again. You have a place to rest here.

So rest your weary eyes upon my own. We both have seen the wrath of the world, and you have witnessed it longer than I, so let me lift up the weight you’ve been holding on. Let me give you something lighter, like my hand, to hold. I have given your heart a home, and I want to give it more.

Come lay with me and right here is a place that will always be for you to stay.


fallen angels

I find that there is nothing safer in the world than in the intervals of your heartbeat. I tuck myself inside your chest and I get lost in the rhythm of the way it heaves and collapses. You make it easier. You have always made it easier. You make the loud crashes of thunder fade into the distance. There is never an uproar of the way I cave in and fall. I have fallen from the heights I could not reach until I had nothing left.

Except you.

I always have you. After every bruise, every heartburn that seared more than what could hurt, after all the days I have gotten up just to lay flat on the floor wailing, I have always had you.

So when I fall from grace once more, crawling through broken bones and doing nothing but relish in the ache. I do not worry, because when I am done feeling sorry for myself, there is never a moment when your hands don’t meet mine when I reach out for it.


to build a dream


And tonight, I will start to dream of better things. Somewhere out there is a future that doesn’t hold you. There is a future where you no longer have a grip on me. It’s there, I just have to wait long enough to see.

I used to think that I could walk miles and wait by every stop, just to be able to get to where you are. Tonight is different. There will be a day when the clouds would part to introduce the sun in a rapid symphony and there will be no one beside me. But I will smile all the same, because the world, I hope, will continue to be beautiful without you in mine.

Right now, it isn’t.

But I will learn to dream to love the gaps in the silence of the winds, I will learn to dream to love the spaces in between where you and I used to sit that have already ceased to exist.

And tomorrow, when I wake, I will have already learned to dream to love the way I open my eyes and see everything in my life unfold without you here.

Tonight, I dream. And I don’t let myself weep. For tomorrow, I am a day closer to that dream, of how the way you walked away isn’t as bad as it seems.


you are a writer

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You are a writer.

Whether you post your work or not. When it takes you a week or two to hit the publish button, when the words just rest quietly in the drafts, or when you can share every day until the end of the year. I know the word doesn’t sit right when you only spill ink after they broke your heart. Or when you start to feel like maybe you’ve finally understood what the poets meant by love. We all start somewhere here.

You are a writer.

Whether you pick up a pen or press down the keys. Even if the only ones who read are the chirping birds and the honeybees. No writer needs a reader. A reader needs a writer. In the hushed corners of the room, or at the little cafe down the street. and even inside the moving train. On repeat. The world disappears while you make one underneath the pages or the screens.

You are a writer.

If a tree falls in the forest, it makes a sound. When you start to write, and there is nobody around, you are still and always will be a writer.

You are a writer.