Love

175.

Not all secrets have to be filled with the weight of a drowned corpse, guilt hanging on the leg one cannot shake loose. I am accustomed to keeping sad things secret, but more so for the happy things too.

There’s something about preciousness that cannot be shared with others, lest beauty and wonder is lost. Don’t gain partial ownership or the ability to change it up, let it stay an unbroken memory for the cold days ahead. I am no fool, to leave a gem on the beach for the enchanting ocean to steal.

Call me selfish, and I will perhaps find no heart to deny — for sometimes we hold on so tightly until the insides of our palms make crescent cries. Take a look at what is photographed in quiet, the boundless whispers stalking across the mind. The things to immortalise.

I don’t know about you (if you exist), but for me? With numbers need not be told, I have stood in a place watching, hoping to remember for always.

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173.

You have taught what it means to comfort a soul, how raw and impossible it is to embrace, but to do it anyway because of love.

Call to me in the darkness just to hear something real, keep the line alive even if you can barely breathe. Though the clouds shade the night sky it’s not as though you no longer exist.

Your sadness to me is magnetic, the way the moon has a pull on the tides of earth.

Tell me — am I unbearably cruel to lean into your pain, just to know you’re still here?

Washing arms that bleed from cuts self-inflicted, to navigate spoonfuls of food so that you would have the stomach to at least try. Come, align your fidgety fingertips with mine so that with the other we can count the number of blue cars whizzing past the street, just because it’s your favourite colour, just because it’ll keep you next to me, just so you can anchor yourself in control.

The tears streaming down cheeks say that you can feel, this by far better than the days you won’t even turn at the sound of your name. I will hold you, desperately so when your life is going off the rails, give me a rope and I promise to never let you sink into a quiet nothing. My heartbeat is a lullaby that is yours to keep, if yours is all but breaking into a hollowness that cannot be filled.

So please keep your shadow beside me. If you haven’t realised it yet, remember to stay safe — because I like being alive at the same time as you.

160.

Is it preposterous that I am in want to protect you?

More so when it is only recent that I have come to know you. Somehow, slowly through moments miniscule, you have become unexpectedly dear to me. From the impulsive lending of the cap to asking if I’m doing okay, there are various sides to your easily won smile. The little things you do, showing that you care. Leaning forward, running to offer aid.

Came to me in the night you did, and I am grateful. Showing me a shadow that might cause alarm and distress, but it only made me want to hold you closer. Give me time, let me gather much armour, sword and shield to keep these disturbances away. Bring with us a light that never ends.

Sitting by the table just there, I cannot help but to watch you. Note the seldom serious look and the handsome haircut. Your hands, they relax on the surface before the next conversation gets them into expressive gestures. Quietly laugh.

Yes, perhaps it is preposterous to yearn protecting you. Though you stand tall and seemingly immovable, this is what you have done. Have me drawing one step closer.

158.

So much colour to perceive despite its many shades of monochrome in this world. This grin pulling against his will, a billboard commanding attention. 

What is it about her that makes it so different? The store and its array of flowers. Which would be the best for the three words he could barely dare to think of. Pace around, a fool chasing his own tail or a mouse attempting to snatch the trap’s cheese?

I like bravery in a boy, are the words once heard, and with a thudding heart he cannot help but to feel that he can live up to that praise.

Style the hair, wipe the spectacles, don the cotton shirt, choose the bouquet — how much more would be required to say?

157.

How are you feeling?

 

How

 

do you find yourself just the way you are, that you sit there with arms folded across a length comparable to the horizon

 

Are

 

you alright in the things you do, where you laugh and smile at the people around you, do you find yourself reaching

 

You

 

are a treasure but do you know that? Could you very well be a treasure hidden from yourself

 

Feeling

 

down and small, like you’re never quite anything at all, but you, my dear friend, is someone I would try for everyday to grow and love more, that you are someone I will continue to care for

 

Don’t you know…?

 

Your smile makes the flowers grow.

151.

Why me? he finally asks

And the other, why

Stood smiling, unnerving he

 

I am small and rudely insignificant

More sooner gone than here

The nuisance of a sandy grain left in the shoe

Dust upon dust crumbling

Remains buried in cold earth.

 

Why you? He replies

And the other, which

Hastily looked away from the Maker

 

Upon you I lavished love and stumbling affection

A mark remaining ages after

The refuge for the raging ocean

Masterpiece in the unlikely

The soil in which the beautiful grow.

 

Why me? he whispers in quiet wonder

And the other, He

Gently extends the nail-pierced hands as a gift to be received.

147.

“My father didn’t cry, but he said that seeing me on the floor like that was the most horrible thing that’s ever happened to him. Then he described how he’d made these tourniquets using some torn-up sheets from my bed and held me until the paramedics got there. He said he kept telling me how much he loved me, over and over, in case hearing it helped me stay alive.”

— Michael Thomas Ford’s Suicide Notes (p67)

137.

You remind me of the ocean.

Always ready, quick on your feet, scurrying up the way waves dabble with the beach sand. Deep in thoughts, abundant in your affection, beauty in the glistening light of the sun.

You remind me of the ocean.

Turning cold and somber, sporadically tempestuous. Muted expression, currents unruly, creatures of the moon stalking this salted space.

You remind me of the ocean.

It’s you I’m hopelessly fascinated of.