Tuesday, January 3, 2012

dear you,

You are loved. You are not perfect, except perhaps in your idiosyncrasies and faults.
You are loved. You do not deserve it, nor should you earn it.
You are loved. Without expectations, but against your wishes.
You are loved. Not from afar and despite the magnifying glass.
You are loved. It is not a choice. Neither yours, nor mine.

You are loved. It is not a weapon, or a weight. It is not a promise, or an excuse. It is not an explanation, or a question. It is not a prize, or a punishment.

You are loved. I implode whenever I try to say what I feel.

Love,
me, not only myself, and not I

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

dear me,

during the past week you realized that you are stronger than I give myself credit for, you have more to give than I thought, and you are more loved than I ever imagined.
Remember that. Hold on to it. Hold on to them.

Love,
you

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

of words lost in hiding

I think of all the words written but unseen. I remember.
I see all the words written but unseen. I remember why.
I know all the words written but unseen. I remember why they're there.
I feel all the words written but unseen. I remember why they're there and not here.

Each one a fear. Each one a rage. Each one a reason. Each one a madness. Each one a tear. Each one a step.
Each one taken out and swallowed back in.

About the shell the ghost the shadows. About the never ever after. About the words you breathe in and the images you cry out. About the principles of dots. About the labels we wear.
Stories with elephants and giraffes. Stories of my dear almost never ever gonna happen. Short stories for people long gone.

You never fought for me. No one ever fought for me. Not even me.

I would burn my words and drown my thoughts if I thought it helped.
Now it is said. Not to you, but for me. So I can begin.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

of fools and nothing

Imagine waking up Don Quixote to reality.
Imagine it happening in the very middle of his pursuit.
Imagine his shock to see the giants were windmills.
Imagine his stupefaction to see his brave adventure an illusion.
Imagine his consternation to see his future and his past vanish into thin air.
Imagine his shame to realize he was nothing but a crazy old fool.
Imagine his pain to know he has nothing.