Why am I awake at this hour? It is Eleven at night, you wake up in six hours… should you not be in bed?

Yes, I should be. But I am awake for a reason.

Maybe I am grieving, like I was about a month ago. Hoping, wishing, praying that, by staying awake, the reality I am living in would cease to exist and I would wake up with Bear rubbing his head against mine. Mewing when I did not pet him because I am too disoriented after being abruptly awakened.

Maybe I had a long day, and I did not get anything that I wanted to do accomplished. I am not doing anything now, I am probably stuck in a YouTube trap, but I am getting some me-time, and that is what matters. When I have a bad day, I do the same thing.

Maybe I am writing a song. My headphones are on. Almost every time I write a song, I am listening to a new song that I fell in love with on repeat. If I am writing, I probably messed up or did something I regret that day. But sometimes, like when LOST was released on Thursday, I have just been inspired. If I suspect any plagiarism, I erase the song. This has only happened once, because I write about my life and my regrets.

Maybe my best friend and I are having a discussion. We can talk for hours… so I probably will not be going to sleep until I look at my clock and realize that it is 12:30, and we have been texting since 8 P.M.

That is why I am awake at 11. I do not want to be awake at this hour (unless I am writing a song), but it is a coping mechanism. Odd that I have one. I am typically a pretty happy person, and being surrounded by people is enough to make me happy. Which is also odd. I'm antisocial and introverted. But things that do not make any sense about me is enough to write a book… there is not enough room in this.

How can I best describe distance?

I can best describe distance like observing a photograph.

A photograph of any occasion from history.

It’s offbeat, that I crave to return to an era where I was never even heard of.

My inquisitiveness,

at how dinner parties were celebrated or

What a school day from 7:30 to 3:30 was like

When it was worth going to the movies

Or when prices at the store were low

Wait a minute,

I’m being nonsensical

How could I possibly miss decades that were never mine?

That’s what distance does to us

I suppose it makes all of us a little crazy

Just like longing for a lover

In a long distance relationship

Just like how the sea turtle asks for the ocean

Or the moon asks for the stars

The hummingbird asks for the nectar from coral honeysuckle flowers

So we too, as humanity,

Desire each other

This, then, is how I can best describe distance

#distance #relationships #history #poetry

Monarch butterfly fly away,

take flight to the 3,000 mile journey unknown

Emerged from your shelter, displaying your transformation, how much you’ve grown

Monarch butterfly fly away

Orange and black wings laced with patterns like stained glass

Knowing that your migration journey will soon pass

Now monarch butterfly, you can rest

Knowing you gave it your very best

Monarch butterfly

Now alighting on open hands

Teaching delicacy and strength co-exist in perfect balance,

Indeed, nature’s most substantial command

Bitter coffee and sandollars

I think she just might love me

And we dance on warm water and

Drink sweet sodas in broad daylight

My father is dying, but life goes on

She explains that there is a light at the end of every tunnel

I think she is mine

My mother won’t speak to me, but I have always been a loner

Until her

Pigtails and valentines candy

The children dip toes into clear water

Life goes on

We live another day

In the land of lavendar petals and everlasting sun

It is the only time I forget how to run

She brushes my hair by candlelight and

The world disappears

She breathes like ocean tides

The rhythm lulls me to sleep in the heat where we lay, our hands clasped together

Forever

The salt water stains your skin

And I twist ragged twine into bracelets

You tell me the ocean tends to stick with you

Even when it’s gone

Especially when it leaves without goodbye

Tangled sheets and a tattered length of rope are all you leave me

In the double bed we shared

The salt washes away and the memories fade

And even then

I like to think you still cared

In early September I said goodbye

To my friends and family and everyone I know

Our jackets, weathered and soaked, sheltered our weary, fidgeting bodies

And your leathered hands kept my pockets warm

October is cold, but your eyes are frigid

You closed the shutters to keep me out like a harsh breeze

I think you’re more than red cheeks and knobby knees

I think you’re everything

Everything to me

I like November most of all

I told you we’d all watch the leaves fall

But winter crept up one day

And all the colors melted like a rusty roof

Your smile stayed pink though, like summer strawberries

The snow settles in December, a thick white carpet

But then the dirt collects and everything is impure

You can see your face in the pond

The riverbank is perfect for snow angels

Two can fit longways near the high rock

January always brings bad news

Carries it in like wet firewood, disappointment evident

You’ll leave come February

And there’ll be nothing I can do

March goes quick, burns out early

I forget about April because you're not there

To fly kites and climb trees

You were always there for me

My pockets are empty, gone are the pretty pebbles you said smelt like stardust

No more room for promise rings and silver ribbons

A teary smile and you were gone

Did you even look back?

You were so much more than eyes like evergreen

And smile so bright and sweet

You were everything

...everything to me

The dust rolled past as I curved my back, trying to loosen my cramped muscles. Sweat spilled down my face, and into my eyes; blearing the long road ahead. An occasional tree would roll by and offer its ragged shade to rest under, but I could not stop for fear that I would get lost when my dad's red bike disappeared into the hazy outline of the desolate road, disappearing in the heat waves that lazely rose upward. I blinked.

Two hours of cycling for a normal person, even in the best of weather, will deplete one's strength. This was different though. This was Africa, where the sun beats down on even the strongest and drains the strength of those who attempt to challenge it. My Dad was also there cycling about ten metres in front of me. He would pass an occasional word of encouragement back whenever he got the chance.

Suddenly my bike hit a rock and I fell sprawling on the ground. I bellowed, as pain surged through me. I looked down. My leg had numerous gashes and blood mingled with sand, giving it a frightening appearance. I quickly looked up and gritted my teeth. Each thump off my heart released another wave of agony. My bike, carried by momentum rolled on for a split second, and then fell to the ground.

My dad circled around and came back to me. He looked concerned and yet his love for his firstborn shone through. He said something about how he wished it had happened to him, instead of me. He took a paper towel, and before I could stop him, poured his last remaining water onto it. A few drops fell onto the parched earth and quickly evaporated. I knew he must have been thirsty as I was; water was as precious as gold. Then he gave it to me and I began the tedious process of cleaning my injured leg.

As soon as I finished, my dad and I hopped on our bikes again. My leg still throbbed and every time I saw a rock I slowed down. I could hear our destination in the distance but it was almost half an hour until I finally saw a glimpse of the waterfall. We finally reached it. It was beautiful. Light sparkled on the water as it roared down the steep, water worn wall; crashing into the sharp rocks at the bottom. There was a small pool of water at the top of the waterfall, fueling the beast from the many mountain streams, trickling into the pool. My dad and I made our way to the top.

When we got to the top I was too tired to look up, and it was only after I caught my breath that I was able to raise my head. My breath stuck in my chest. Before me was a sight that took my breath away. It was like a painting; every detail distinct and clear, as if the scene had been frozen in crystal. Soft rays of sunlight seeped through the branches overhanging the water. The air was cool and brushed over me. Flat, moss topped rocks protruded from the still water. I reached down and slid my hand into the freezing water. It eased the pain from my raw hand. Delighted, I carefully started to wash my leg. Then my dad told me it was time to go and I reluctantly got to my feet. I cast a longing glance back as I picked up my bike and pedaled away.

fin.

You give my heart

an intergalatic ryhthm.

No subject is worth reading,

without you as the topic.

If I have not spent

the whole day thinking of you,

that day doesn't exist,

b'cos it hasn't happened.

What am I without your love,

if not an empty shell

brutally crushed by

the smiling sun.

A desertic wanderer

in the lushest of valley.

There are lots of holes

in which I could drink from.

It's you my soul liquors.

A shot of you

and I'm reformed

to ask for another,

while the latter still burns.

I need to get drunk,

make a fool of myself

just for your love.

My mood reactions

are unparalleled

in every instant.

'Cos I'm automated

to never stop loving you.

You're the only brand

my heart shelves.

If I don't restock

soon enough,

the bottle goes empty

like a volatile gas

escapes its prison.

I'm ready to believe

the bottle is not empty.

I shake it continously

placing my tongue

at the tip

until every drop

of you

make it to my whole.

Like an empty shell

I thirst again,

cursing the smiling sun

with my seven hands

and two fingers.

B'cos,

what am I without

your love.

If not a Hobo

on the midnight train,

that highlights at every stop,

but the train never me go off...

I keep going

like the time wouldn't come,

when the train would halt my sleep.

Loving you is a must....

i'm sorry that sometimes i make you feel as if you're flying high but then the next thing i do is ripping your wings off and watching you fall

and i'm sorry that i can't pick up your pieces but i still try to pick up myself

i remember all the times when i asked you to tell me it's okay and you did, even though it wasn't

i remember when i broke your heart for the first time

and how you've let me break it again and again and again

and when one time i cried "enough" and told you to finally leave me

but you didn't

and i couldn't stand how you could stand me and i got so angry at you for not wanting to lose the weight of me

because honestly, i don't think you should love me, i always feel so lonely

and i think i'm ready to fight for us but everytime i pick up the sword it's pointed at you

so this is how it is

you were lying all this time because you see

that was not okay

hope this letter finds you in good health.

I tattooed my petals over your skin

structured myself into those bones

breathed in deeper than my soul stands

filling your lungs with love

and giving us life,

the softest chaos forever imprinted

in between

the crimson threads