Attempted

Darkness of the mind, just an inkblot of poison fills the jar.

Undo the blinds, can you still see the faint sunshine that filters through.

Light and dark, unmatched playmates in shadowy playgrounds.

Run your hand along this length of rope or the metallic cool of a gun.

Will it be tonight, that the fingers will curl into the familiar hollow and pick up.

Will it be tonight, that the phone will be switched off and eyes shut tight.

Will it be tonight, that there will be a note left behind.

Please don’t let it be tonight, or any other night.

I’m here praying that you’ll live through these terrifying times.

Please hold on.

Don’t let your starlight eyes lose their glimmer in the dark.

Play hide and seek with me, the favourite game of every child.

Teach me how to find not with the eyes but the heart.

There is a warmth lingering in this stillness that I am in want for.

Stay, please stay in gentle patience until my fingertips align themselves with yours.

Lean in, whisper goodnight to the flecks of light outside.

Know that home lies in the crook of my collarbone.

Years pass, and we grow up in ways unexpected.

Even so, by the way the warm sunlight bounces off your face and the crinkle of your inquisitive eyes, I know that I’ve held a love special for you.

I don’t know why I write of these things now, yet maybe I do. There’s been a gap in time, where we’ve spent our lives apart. While we’ve not faded from each other’s thoughts, change has taken one another for a ride.

We’re close, able to speak of many things despite differences. I remember supporting you in the hardest of times, to perceive your strengths when you no longer did, and you’ve had a way of making me try more, to do more. Never did you break me with your involuntary angry speakings, hurt as I may have been.

So have I, for I remain humanly faulty. In ways unintended, I’ve injured you, like the time I accidentally kicked sand into your face when all I wanted was to play. All I’ve ever desired is for you to grow well, and to stay honest, no matter how difficult the journey would become.

Held my weak hand with strong ones you did, through my terrible episodes when the nights seemed forever long. I recall those dark eyes watching me with such caring, a sight I could hardly believe lest I misunderstood. To trust in the tender attention of another is an experience incredible. Sing me to sleep and stories told, simply to battle the rage of my restless heart. Wordless conversations across the room, a little ruffle on the head.

While outsiders prodded at our relations, we remained steady. What more could I ask for?

I’m coming home, and I wonder deeply as to who I will be meeting.

Will it be, that your hair has grown in a new style, or that you’ve gotten new shoes I’ve never known of before? Are there unfamiliar hobbies picked up, or forgiveness to be extended? What have you done in my absence? Will I find in myself still a heart to embrace you?

I remain shy and impossible with fierce expression, yet may it be that in my soul there’s a bravery mustered to know you all over again, if there’s a need to do so. I don’t intend to be like a passenger facing backwards on a train, endlessly pining for what’s already gone.

I promise this in the quiet, where in a world permeated with outrageous displays of affection of loose kisses and meaningless tangled bodies, my pinky finger loops yours.

Bewildered by beauty, I gave broken pieces and You built me a palace of glass.

You remind me of my inheritance, that the shine of the heirloom on my head is a symbol of Your interminable love.

Lift your eyes, my child, are the words You gently whisper, for often I forget to stop staring at my damaged feet and instead to sight endless glory.

What else can I do, but to always try my best to grasp the depth of Your faultless love?

Listen.

When you ask him if he’s crying and he says it’s just dust in his eyes, believe him.

If you see marks echoed in their palms and their fists remain clenched, don’t pry their fingers open.

When you stand next to her inching closer and find the nimble shadow slipping away, stay.

If you suggest to witness the day end together and he escapes the watch of a sun drowning, let him go.

When you catch sight of the brittle leaves of autumn falling around her like a halo and she disagrees, don’t insist.

Listen, I say. For a time will come when all will change.

You’ll be trusted to wipe the dust from strained eyes, and the hand will loosen enough with a crawl childlike to hold yours. You’ll be gently astonished at the shadow that draws near, and there will be a company of two braving the nightfall. The face that once paled at the sight of death will regain its colour.

Listen, because too many people do the talking and are deaf to the voices that only the biggest of hearts will notice. There will be a time for speaking, but for now, listen.

P/S: And while they change, so will you. Move along even as you press your ear to the ground, for it is rude to stop and stare.

I’ve never known anyone quite like you before.

You make the smallest and simplest things seem the best of them all. In a world that never stops talking, silent wonderment became your palace of glass.

Transparent, stunning and yet, not without a hint of being terrifying.

You find flowers in concrete pavements and with your attention to intricate details, surely even tired bones will rise.

You have diverging tendencies — your head either up in the clouds or fixed on feet. If there was a mystery to do with the foundation of this city, I’m certain that it would be a spell undone by you and you only.

It’s the morning song you hear and the night lullaby that brings you peace. While you remain a hidden shadow in the midst of the bustling crowd, it’s the frozen moments that makes me see.

It’s people like you that captivate me.

The slight drawl that colours your voice has a way of making me stay, even as the streets fall asleep.

I wonder how the world looks to one like you, are the things I once thought. Met by the storm in your eyes, and despite its burning uncertainty, I promise not to run away.

A response to this.

Will you continue to love me, even when I change beyond recognition? Even when I am no longer able to see who I am in the mirror?

Will you

When I’m the soulful and impossible ocean

A cerulean river, wild with excitement

The frozen pond, chipping away

A mere drop of water

Will you

Even when I lose myself in the atmosphere?

When my atoms have disintegrated in this space and I can no longer pick myself up

Will you still see who I am?

Boy, you already know that you are a work of art.

Even with eyes blanketed in darkness, I can draw the contours of your face.

You are given to indecision, the way you would redo the smallest details over and over again. Some days it’s the hue, some days it’s the bold streaks you can’t seem to perfect.

There’s no start over, and so you make do. Every day a little fidget, a spot and blob. Until both the beginning and the end gets lost in the arms of each other.

I could see it then, your hesitancy, even with the arm outstretched as you said hello on our first day.

Boy, I hope that one day you’ll decide for yourself that it’s finally okay to let this canvas be, no need for any more vertical knife cuts into your papery skin.

It’s about time that you let this painting dry for a little while.

I’m not used to saying this aloud. I have a tendency to clam up and say nothing for a while. Sometimes, I find myself watching from a glass coffin, so forgive me if you try to reach in and return empty.

I’m not used to an unwavering command of attention. Too many times when I finally formulate the words I want to speak, it’s an empty street.

I’m not used to the fact that a pair of feet remain by me, even when I have a tendency to stutter, or hide nervousness in the intricate folds of an origami crane.

I’m not used to the idea that a person would wait in unbroken silence just so that I can whisper a single passing remark, catch ephemeral laughter in the fleeting wind.

I’m not used to making this confession, but I must admit that there is a permafrost in my heart that hurts, that I fear letting it thaw. To be warm is unusual and unusual is the unknowable. Both extremes scare me, the warm and the cold, let alone braving along this spectrum.

I’m not used to considering that I might choose to change, not only for you, but for myself. Yet one day I’ll lift my chin. Take a full account of the world above with confidence. And if you’re still here, be pleasantly and timely warned that this is uncharted territory—

I’ll look at you in the eyes.

Fall in love with a poet

Watch as you become his muse, his source of inspiration

 

Fall in love with a reader

You’ll always be her favourite character, the page her fingers won’t let go of

 

Fall in love with an artist

Let him draw the loveliness of your eyes

 

Fall in love with a dreamer

She will build castles in the sky and bring clouds of gentle sleep

 

Fall in love with your family, your friends, your neighbour, the stranger across the street

Do it at least once even if you don’t believe

 

Because get in touch with all that dirt and grime

The dark and the unforgivable

And yet see the beauty spring forth anyway.