Jae.

We’ve all felt pain long enough to write two different novels. One about how it’s more inside than it is out, a fake smile will only hold up for so long– and then the tears come out. One about how it has caused growth– the garden in your lungs kind, you can’t breathe, but you’re dying to scream near the beach kind of garden– I’ve been growing a dozen of roses plus one to add to your cup of tea for every year that we’ll spend writing more bitter poetry back into our remaining days of youth that won’t fade as long as you’re around. You’re the kind of book I don’t want to put down, you’re the kind of library I’ve been lost in– I love you doesn’t even begin to describe you. Beautiful isn’t a good enough start to any poem, I think I’ll start with delicate. You’ve placed soul back into my spine– you’ve been a cast for more broken bones than I can count– although we’ve got a graveyard full of heartbeats, we’ve got a memoir left for our forever and always– forever as in your eyes never looking down on me, always as in your palms being placed next to mine; I’ll keep your worries safe as long as you do the same for mine. I love you doesn’t begin to sound like an ending unless we’ve made up for the lost time– you’re the seconds I don’t plan to lose, you’re the hands on the clock, loving me until we’re back into pieces of never knowing when things will ever end– the only pieces I’ll ever be satisfied with. You once told me to let love find me, I think you’ve got a point. Why search for something when I barely know how to love myself? I’ll just disappoint myself again. I’ve been in trouble with myself, I’ve been looking for things– things meaning more hearts to make sense of the emptiness we feel, things meaning more love where I’ve been left alone, and things meaning that if we did find it– somewhere, somehow, and in some way– we wouldn’t have to second guess a thing… we would just know. I’m looking for a love to wear like armor– don’t judge my insecurities or tell me about my flaws– tell me about the sky and how we can make the air more soft– less sighs and more affection, give me the whiskey without the glass– give me the string, I’ll provide the tin cans– give me love, give me hope, give me strength to better myself– give me everything that I’ve dreamed of and nothing less than something I’ll never be– I want to be a dreamer without the need to use a dream catcher to decipher if you’re a beautiful nightmare waiting to go right or if you’re a well rested but I woke up on the wrong side of the bed kind of day– give me your arms and take this pain away. I’ve been pinning myself to your name and I’ve been growing where I’ve got no rain– a desert for a soul, a volcano for a heart, I’ve been asking you to please take me apart. I can die real slow as long as your lips are made from soft gold, a stunning poem I’ve yet to read– more reasons to stop the bleeding, and more love to stop this heavy breathing. Give me the coffee, I’ll take more sugar– give me your trust, we’ll leave the past with the dust and if our lips somehow become rusted, at least at some point, we were metals deciding that being smelted down into pinky promises was a means to feel safe. Give a new definition to finding home, give another reason not to be alone. I’ve found myself inside another love letter– I won’t leave a signature, this isn’t another ending– this isn’t a chapter, this isn’t a single page– I don’t want the book, I don’t want to be lost in another library– not another heart to love, not another soul to decide that you might be another soulmate– give me the universe and all of the stars, give the reasons as to why you feel safer when it’s dark, give me your 4 am truths, you still miss him and I still love her kind of talks– give me the small talk with some depths, give me your eyes that aren’t too heavy, give me the love I’ve been writing about– give me your dirty looks, but make sure the next kiss isn’t another mistake. Give me an apology and joke with me, mean every word that strings from your light hearted reflection. Give me your smile and you? You may have mine.

Jae.

. x .

. X . T A I W A N . X .

H A B I T S

M O N O . X

to that special friend

to that special friend who taught me a lot ...

"Happy Birthday Guan Ting"

Happy 23rd Birthday.

I don't read back

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