immortality

the concept of immortality is such a frightening ideation
imagine:
living day after day after day after day
without end, without beginning
how can one just…be?

the concept of immortality is such a frightening ideation
like:
equidistant seminal conglomerates
between what has come and what will never come
which half are you on?

i choose to be immortal today
in:
the thoughts of my best friend and the eyes of my enemy
may i live vicariously through the rest of you
who have only scratched the surface?

i choose to be mortal tomorrow
to:
have my life end on point and to start the cycle anew
from what has come to what will never come
back to where i can just…be

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we could’ve been everything

hi… haha.

yes, this is for you: for all our regrets and our missed opportunities; our flustering and fluttering of hearts; our taboo situations and prohibited jealousies; and maybe for the feelings i could’ve, would’ve, possibly have, felt for you. 

don’t hate me for this, please. it’s two in the morning and i’m thinking of what we’ve fallen into.


we could’ve been
as beautiful as the rain on your cheeks
when yellows faded into the blues
and collided into a wonderful kaleidoscope of green
of green (lime forest emerald)–my favorite color

we could’ve been
easy; like tickling lashes and tasting lasagna,
like teasing comments and lasting hugs
just like the fluidity of breathing–
oh, wait, breathing was never easy around you

we could’ve been
ethereal brilliance in its corporal form
a magnificent dance between
the yeses and nos
the “should i”s or “shouldn’t”s
between love and insecurity
which grow like weeds in our hearts

but we’re not perfect

you lucked out and i’m fucked up
and all i have
is the memory of your face

i’ll cherish you forever, sweet

for noelle, my dear friend; i hope you know how sorry i am.

also, i’m glad you’re over her.

please read this in your perspective because i am definitely not in love with you.


There are only a few things we cherish in life: time, tea, Mcdonald’s. Love.

Some are heard to find; others always at our fingertips. For instance, the tick tick tock of the clock reminds me to submit my requirements before I run out of time. Another, the delivery man already knows my address by heart, my number by heart, because Mcdonald’s’ hotline is ingrained in my mind and they come at my will.

Love, however, is a more complicated matter. I’ve found it, yes, in the sweetest of smiles and the most beautiful of voices. It lies within the crevices of her eyes when they squint and in the bumps and dips of her body when she dances. It’s amazing, this love; how I can hold it in the palms of my hands–so delicate, so fragile–, how it’s bigger than my being–so strong, so safe. I’ve found it, you know? But at the same time, I haven’t.

Hide and Seek she plays with me and I always hate being “it”. Although my hatred for that particular position doesn’t change how things are. It’s unfair (so fucking unfair), the way she hides from me, counting on me to pull her out of her self-induced black hole. Life has always been unfair, however, and always will be. And so why try to change my course when my only choice is to go after her? I want to go after her.

People… people are harsh. They think that this won’t work out in the end; they say I’m just going to get hurt; they say “get over it”. But how can I get over the one person who makes me feel alive–hell, who keeps me alive? They might as well be telling me to die.

I don’t care whether love is complicated, or whether she wants to play Hide and Seek for all eternity. Nor do I care what people say to me, no matter how desperate they are to keep me from the pain that I already know will ensue.

Fuck the whole universe; I love her. And nobody can do shit about it.

i like you

i’d like for you to hold me—
a hand ensconcing mine
a jacket over my shoulders
an arm around my waist
lips on lips

i’d like for you to touch me—
an eye on my back, protecting, raking
four fingertips caressing my thigh
hearts exchanging the light and heavy
lips on lips

i’d like for you to kiss me—
feather-like on my cheekbones
fervent on my neck
urgent on my body
lips on lips

i’d like you for you
and your hold and your touch and your kiss
for your sweet smile and your lips on mine

paper plane

Paper planes
Are miles and days
Away from where they’ve been flown
Away from what they’ve always known

Young and free, it flies
Far into the windy skies
Wisps of fingertips, impressions of pressure
These steel the way of the paper plane

A starting point, an ending line
The brief flight in between time
Are the moments this paper plane lives for
Are the minutes this paper plane can live on

Before the maker takes it
Before the taker breaks it
Before the lord of salvage and ruin
Carries its wilted frame into the sun

So enjoy, little paper plane,
What little air you have left
Soar, beautiful
Soar, veins
Soar, blood