I know a few things
about human beings.

1. We are so easily
engrossed
by bodies of water.
We see sunlight
glinting off the waves
and we start wondering
how it would feel
to have all that blue
under our shifty feet.
The reflection of the sky
on the surface of the sea
reminds us of ourselves.

2. From the moment
we were born,
we have started to wilt.
Life gives us
a chance to bloom,
to be alive once in a while,
but we do not take
much of that opportunity;
instead we choose to wilt.
We choose to work
for a place to be
after we have fully wilted.
We are so governed
by our faith it’s unhealthy.
I do not allow myself
to be governed by my faith.

3. This earth is never
enough for us.
We keep striving to see
if maybe there’s something
other than this green
when all we have to do
is look at ourselves.
We are not just water.
We are nebulae, we are
solar flares, we form
one galactic supercluster.
We do not need to let go
of ourselves to see this.
Our flesh is each
a different version of the
same wonderful sky.
There’s a reason we fall
in love with each other.

4. Falling in love
is inhumanely tricky.
Culture tells us
that there is a right way
to hand our hearts over,
but know this: there is
none. There is none.
Hand over your heart
to someone special
and the stars inside you
will take its place.
Maybe something
even more beautiful
will grow there—flowers,
maybe, or the moon.
We love flowers
and we love the moon.

5. Always we crave
for the unattainable.
This is human nature.
We make huge mistakes
and seldom do we
take the blame.
This is human nature.
We fear the abstract.
We live in the abstract.
We write novels
about the future, and
oh—we fear the future.
We redden when told
that we are beautiful.
We are beautiful.
We are all so beautiful.

I will carry each part of you
in the crook of my arm
like a goddamn ceremony
but you have to understand
that I will no longer look back
if I am ever not enough
to hold your remains together.

—

You were more than right
when you said that you will
forever be dysphorically stuck
to the roof of my mouth
and I was more than certain
when I promised never again
to let you examine the red.

This building reeks of death.

I enjoy walking in these hallways
like a lone ghost with a backpack.
Observing from afar, I see people
hold each other as if letting go
would easily mean loss,
and I think: this is what love is.
It is the fear of trepidation,
the suspicion that something
will go irremediably wrong, and
then later, the pernicious certitude.
We take extreme measures
to make sure that we don’t reach
that point, but everything ends.
The ocean has to hit the shores
and the blue of the endless skies
has to meet the green of the lands.
Our lovers will stop holding us,
the butterflies inside us will die,
and our words shall slowly vanish.
Ink dropped in water is not
the same with ink on paper,
but both have the same result.
We trudge through this world with
the knowledge that we’ll all wither.

And we keep quiet about it.