To be loved like a poem not a song.

With carefully picked out words,
thoughtful actions.

Not a fast rhythm,
but a slow gentle pace.

Maybe some people prefer that swifter pace,
with straightforward love.
However,
there is such an elegance
to the complexity
of slowness and quietness.

There’s a sort of peace that comes with
patience.

…

Love doesn’t have to be hidden,
but it isn’t also meant to be announced like a firework or wildfire.

I don’t need an instagram bio to make it “official”.
No need to publish anything,
or make a big debut to label it
as “real”.

Not because I am ashamed of being in love,
quite the opposite.
I care about it too deeply
to let it get ruined by the toxicity of people.

I also don’t think love should have to fit in a mold.
It doesn’t need to be the typical online love we see on our screens daily.
Understanding that each person loves differently
can bring together distinct personalities.

Maybe it just needs time.
The right soil
to grow.

Don’t condemn me for something you too did.
What makes you any better?

Who are you to judge the equally guilty person?
And in what right mind should I trust that your opinions aren’t based on unjust bias?

You judge Eve for have eaten the forbidden fruit,
but wouldn’t you too?

You’re no better at being human than me.
Or the homeless guy on the street,
or the slave you so claim worthy to keep.

Your judgement should be taken as a grain of salt,
almost worthless.
Because you’re no better than the murderer,
the thief,
or the saint.

This is where the like of morality blurs,
because if I’m not a good judge,
who is?

Who is the one worthy to judge?
Truthfully…
no one.
No human or animal is cleansed or perfect.

But one whom clearly understands the laws,
and upholds them
is truthful.
Not perfect,
but sufficient.

But on a wider spectrum,
true judgement upholds moral values.
But no one has the same values.

The most important thing when it comes to righteousness
is a diverse and open mind.
Able of taking in different perspectives and opinions
and slow to react with anger or bitterness.

Realistically though only a few handful of individuals can classify themselves under these conditions.
Because as humans it is as natural to judge than it is to eat.

Am I trying to justify it?
No.
And in no way am I trying to uphold or encourage it.
Yet, I am recognizing it.
Because as much as I wish it weren’t,
it’s the dark side of being human.
Or at least one of the many parts.

Maybe living in peace means living without judgement,
but if that’s the case
I guess humans live pretty agitated lives.

My chest is heavy,
and my throat tightens,
Breathing ragged,
head light.

I punch you until my knuckles bruise,
I scream until my throat bleeds.

I shout ‘WHY’
as if you owe me an answer.
I beg for a reason behind this hurt.
‘I hate you,’
three powerful words,
but they barely scratch the surface
of what I feel for you.

I look up.
You’re just a person,
like me.
You have scars,
flaws that don’t fade.
Just like me.

Then I catch the softness of your eyes,
vulnerable, full of emotions I don’t understand.
I feel sorry for you,
in some twisted way.

I blink and realize—
I’m in front of a mirror.
Because the only person I can never escape from
is me.

“Right person wrong time”
I like to make myself believe that.
I like to come up with excuses or justifications as to why we left.

It wasn’t in a snap of a finger,
or overnight.
No..
it was a painful slow burn.
A fire you didn’t know you started.

It started through small actions.
We talked less,
hung out with other people.
We lost our connection.

Then was the second phase:
The realization.
When I looked back and realized I forgot our intimate jokes,
the road that used to lead to your house,
the roughness of your laugh.

I couldn’t control it.
I mean I wanted to.
I wanted us to go back,
I wanted us to restart.
But I knew it was inevitable.

Then I tried to remember you,
I learned all your favorite songs by heart.
I remembered your birthday,
I printed our favorite pictures together.

But when I came back,
and showed you everything I did for you.
I recognized,
you weren’t that same person.
That person that knew exactly when and how to make me laugh,
my favorite color,
or favorite song.

I took a step back for good.
Because I knew that no matter how much I try to deny it,
or justify it.
You wouldn’t come back.

But I’ll still remember
the person I used to know.
And every time I pass by your street,
I’ll cherish the times I had to drive you back after a long trip.

Every time I look back at our pictures I’ll remember them,
almost as if I had gone back.

I know we haven’t talked,
but just know I love you.
In every way I can.
In every drop of my soul.
I lay myself to you
a stranger I knew.

Maybe your stay wasn’t permanent,
but the mark you left on me was.
Because the people you least expect to
can change your life irrevocably.

My chest is heavy,
and my throat tightens,
Breathing ragged,
head light.

I punch you until my knuckles bruise,
I scream until my throat bleeds.

I shout ‘WHY’
as if you owe me an answer.
I beg for a reason behind this hurt.
‘I hate you,’
three powerful words,
but they barely scratch the surface
of what I feel for you.

I look up.
You’re just a person,
like me.
You have scars,
flaws that don’t fade.
Just like me.

Then I catch the softness of your eyes,
vulnerable, full of emotions I don’t understand.
I feel sorry for you,
in some twisted way.

I blink and realize—
I’m in front of a mirror.
Because the only person I can never escape from
is me.

We grew apart—
not physically, but emotionally.

I watched us fade away,
from each other,
from the world.

Our old photos became antique memories,
hidden in the back of my mind.
Your touch is still engraved in my skin.
Your voice still echoes in my brain.
Your presence, your spirit, still beats within my heart.

The hardest part of change
was knowing it wouldn’t go back.
You wouldn’t be the same person
I once knew so intimately.

I tried to justify your departure.
“This is for the better.”
“We need time apart.”
But nothing filled the comfort you left behind.
No reassuring words or hopeful phrases
could change the irrevocable fact:
you were gone.

I begged the universe for one more night—
to hear your words,
to feel your touch,
to be in your presence just for the sake of it.

But deep down, we both knew—
this was the end.

You were like sand slipping through my fingers.
No matter how tightly I held on,
you were leaving.

I got down on my knees,
pleading with the emptiness,
Stay.
I wanted you—
no, I needed you.

But no matter how much I begged,
you still left.

And so we returned,
to being strangers we once knew.

“Never love anyone more than yourself,”
Mom always said that to me.
When it came to relationships,
she always saved 10% of herself.

That’s where I got it from—
my issues to trust,
to give, and to
fully envelop myself.

She taught me to be cautious of
those I let into my life—
those who held knives behind their backs
and drew me in with sweet words.

She also taught me to stay strong,
that even if people left my life,
I was never alone.

…

Ma had her own struggles.
She never talked about it openly,
not even to Dad.
She kept the facade of a strong woman
and rarely shared her vulnerability.

It made me feel so invalidated
in my own struggles.
I felt isolated because I thought
I wasn’t supposed to feel this way.
Since she never shared her experiences,
I never knew she too
suffered.

She did a hell of a good job at it though,
better than me.
When it came down to it,
she never cried.
Not even when the dog died.

She wasn’t much of an emotional woman.
“Crying is for the weak.”
The worst part is…
I believed her.

The only reason she felt this way
was because, as a young girl,
she was never to share
her wars.

But when I see her dance—
oh, she shines so bright.
Her radiating aura
surrounds her.
I can feel it.
In the flicker of her eye,
in the rasp of her laugh,
I can see it.
In the lines of her smile
and her white hairs.
She’s just as young as she was
yesterday,
and the day before,
all the way to the little girl she used to know.

She’s everything she claims not to be…
Human