he swore he could provide me with oceans
when all I could give back was a mere
dew drop.
And so I let him go.

5840 days isn’t a long time to be on earth
when you really think about it.
& if all goes well I should have at least another 20440 until I take my last breath.

so why rush so fast into what’s nearly guaranteed temporary?
call me a pessimist, but love is just a feeling.
and all feelings are temporary when you’re 16 years old.

so when such things are so short-lived,
why waste time on exclusivity & commitment?
especially on someone with such different visions on what love is supposed to be.

no one is obligated to provide reciprocation.
despite the other party’s ambitions or
the strength of how they feel,
some things just aren’t meant to be—
some people just weren’t made to love the same.
so be patient.
savor your youth.
& choose wisely your first love.

but when you’re ready to love?
you love hard.
you love recklessly.
you love exactly as you would want to be loved.
because regardless of its ability (or inability) to last,
love is never easy to forget.
and love should not be taken lightly.

I don’t want to be your friend.
I want to kiss your neck.
I want to sink deep into your arms
and never return to the shore.
I want to travel to the parts of you
which no one has dared yet to explore.
I want to be yours—
I want my body to be yours.
and i want yours to be mine.
but for our hearts to do the same?
that’s much easier said than done.

her sun spots bragged of
summers spent reckless
and her silver locks of
once box dyed glory.
her drooping skin bragged of
first kisses and a hundred men’s touch—
from her so-called “glory days.”
her plump figure bragged of
children bore and
lovers loved and
a thousand lives lived.
in this old age I deemed her ageless—
having lived more in one lifetime
than most could dream to do in four.

feelings rush through
veins of red—
pulsating,
plotting,
yearning.
a breath,
a word,
a touch,
a kiss—
one ***** now
the world is red.

but even as an atheist,
being in his arms
felt like heaven
to me.

I lost myself at age 7.
I crawled into bed and then disappeared.
my childhood behind me—
erased.
set on fire.
all it took was one touch for it all to burn down.
no more trust.
no more love.
no more innocence.
gone.

You were blessed with a voice,
One of power and brilliance--
Yet you still choose to sit in the silence?

You were given words upon words
& stance upon stance--
Yet I see not one sign of resistance.

Oh my dear child,
What is holding you back?

Is it fear of shame? simple diffidence?

Your speech is ammunition--
Your lips capable of deliverance more
Powerful than the rifles of wars once long fought.
Yet you still choose to sit in the silence?

Oh my dear child,
If only you knew.

In a world plagued so greatly with censorship and shame,
You’ve been blessed to speak freely as you choose.
Under this flag of red, white, and blue,
The only regulator of your speech
(or lack thereof)
Is you.

Somewhere across the pond is another--
One just as bright and capable as you.
But alas their tender head is still deemed naive
& their gifts remain invariably at rest.
Even now will you sit in the silence?

Oh my dear child,
Now do you see?

Your ability to speak up is a privilege--
One of rarity and great worth.
So cherish this blessing &
Hold it close while you can.
Because who knows?
Just one policy and it could all be stripped free.