Having you around
is better than making you
a stranger once more.

you and i are fretful, wary fish--
old souls. anxious beings.
sometimes i think that you and i are part of a whole--
the two fish tied together by the rope.

as the song says,

"i wanna ruin our friendship,
we should be lovers instead;
i don't know how to say this,
'cause you're really my dearest friend."

but honestly,
i crave you in the most innocent of ways.

if i could kiss you just once,
simply sleep next to you and be at peace,
that would be more than enough for me.

we made a pact -- at thirty we will get married
just because we can.
but it hurts --
i know it doesn't mean the same to you
as it does to me

i just want to marry you someday
live in a house near the Atlantic
and the rooms will be full of cacti and succulents
the scent of baked goods will waft out from the kitchen
where we will be battling the cats
for space on the table to let the macarons cool --
vanilla bean, rose raspberry, chocolate peppermint

some days, this is all i can think about
and i could never admit that to you

Bro,tell me please
To your heart's content
Enjoying a French kiss
In squeezing out
The nectar of their lady-hood
Not remiss,
Are the lasses
A cigarette
For a while you keep
By your chest
To burn them to ashes
And ignominiously
Squash them down
Under your heels?

the horrible thing about having a platonic love is that in the end, her gonna end like a idiot to you, or just one insensible *******, or another adjective that falls in the category of someone who hurts you so bad that you will wish that you wont become closer with anyone else, but hey, this is life and there are others things that are way horrible than that, a platonic love isnt that bad, the case is that you make the person more than your live will ever woth and you cant ignore that but  you cant see that, at least so clear that you will recognize that as a mistake and you keep going on, thats why i just gonna end all here, not my love for you but my life, because my life without you isnt life at all

On the dawning horizon, Barcelona.
Above us, a quiet storm rages.
A meter away, Isabel,
with her abyssal draw-well eyes,
Silence as her name,
catapults for legs.

Your name, nothing more.
Your past and life, trivial.
Only your name was important
and I obtained it: Isabel.
It was but a physical infatuation,
completely platonic and surreal.

You with the draw-well eyes,
and gold ingots for hair,
with Silence as your name,
and catapults for legs;
I shall learn your name today,
I shall forget your face today.

Your draw-wells' potable water
will flow down your cheeks,
and your hair's gold will devalue,
and your mouth's silence will speak,
and your legs' wood will break;
nothing but your name shall remain.

You, with the draw-well eyes,
I know not who you are,
I do not know where you're from,
but I could scrutinize your eyes,
as abyssal as water wells,
for a whole eternity, and more.

You who prance and dance
to any and every rhythm,
I long to know everything about you,
discern your likes and dislikes,
fathom all your insecurities
and make you forget them.

You whose look spans
all seven seas and the four winds,
stare at me forever,
penetrate my self as light does.
Make me feel unique, as if the world
turned around me, around you.

You with the draw-well eyes,
grant me the pleasure
of knowing who you are,
where you come from and are going to;
allow me to study those eyes
for one, two, three eternities.