Photographs are weird
They seem so simple
But there are layers
Like the way each person in the photograph felt when it was taken
Or how they recall it
Or where they've gone since
And how it looks to you

You might look at it and feel happy because they are humans just like you and they are smiling
Or you might look at it and feel sad because they are humans just like you and they are smiling

Well, I don't feel happy or sad.
I'm just fascinated in imagining how you feel.
And somewhat nostalgic about how I've felt in all of those "simple"
moments that I'll never be a part of again

So
like most simple things
it wasn't simple at all.
It was complicated
Except it felt easy.

They told me to write a list of reasons to stay and a list of reasons to leave.
But I didn't do what they told me to.
Instead I made a list of reasons to stay.
I didn't include reasons to leave.
I still don't really know why.
Maybe, somewhere deep inside I never really wanted to leave in the first place.
Or maybe, the reasons just never existed.
I was sad.
But I never considered Sad a reason.
Sad introduces you to different parts of yourself.
And Sad helps you fall in love.
And Sad keeps you thinking.
Sad keeps you writing...
But this time, I didn't write it down, like they told me to.
I still don't really know why.
Maybe, I just couldn't find words to express all of the obscure ideas.
Like the idea about Sad.
How Sad became a reason to stay...
Maybe, I just didn't think they'd be able to understand ideas like that.
Or maybe, it was less than that.
Maybe it was just because paper gets lost
Or paper gets torn
Or paper gets thrown away
And maybe I just spent too much time feeling lost
Or torn
Or thrown away

And I think, I feared I might get lazy and stop adding on to the list had it been written.
So I just thought.
And I held it inside.
And I added on to it every day.
And I never left.

And at some point, I stopped thinking about leaving.
And then eventually, I stopped thinking about staying.
I still don't really know why.
Maybe, it was because I got so wrapped up in living that it no longer felt like an option.
Or something to consider.
*It just was.
I just was.
And that was okay.
And okay was enough.

Inside,
Deep inside.
A fire erupts.
On the surface,
a fluid slips through the pores.
Protection & relief.

Black hole,
Insatiable,
Irresistible.
A pull of love
& a pull of lust,
a soft abyss,
isn’t it just.
A sweet candy,
A diamond in the rough,
Pink,
Akin to the one,
In the hand of Solomon Vandy.

1,000 stars,
Cannot match,
The heat emitted,
Without the restrictions,
Of a watch.