December nights are different than the rest
In December I lie awake and listen to Christmas songs
In December I lie awake finding presents for my loved ones
In December I lie awake thinking about what I'll cook over the holidays
Why can't every month be December?

It is a rainy day
I walk
It washes away my fear,
I feel I am letting go.
It is a rainy day
I feel my worries
Wash away from my face,
My wrinkles are being erased.
It is a rainy day
I know
Healing takes time,
But time heals the deepest wounds.
It is a rainy day,
It is dark
But I feel a spark of light
In my heart.
It is a rainy day
And I know
How hard it has been to let go.
Now I heal
As the rain washes my wounds away.
I heal as the rain pours down on me.

I put my fingers to this screen, pen to paper, a retrospect connecting two beings.
I paint modern Latin into charcoaled emotions. Digital inked expressions raging to be exclaimed.
A grey ball burst into a colorful mess.
I’ve finally begin to enjoy the flow of images that have been clustered inside this membrane.
Scribe my boy, scribe with the madness that has detained you for an inconceivable amount of time.
I cry as this ecstasy is so refreshing and this sorrow is so sublime.

Same bed
Same love
Same memories
Same old fashion
Same favorite food
But we have our own new stories.

If one day
you find me
not only as a poem
that you really love
and you don't care
who the author is,
I'll be happy.

You are not only the reader
I've been searching for,
but also as an eternal lover
in every words
I will tell you more.