have you ever felt like a stranger to yourself?

cold palms gripping onto harsh edges and tresses of hair

firm grasp with dead hands

frozen stares with dead eyes

occasionally i forget the person in the mirror

forget that i owe her so much

only finding reasons to punish and hate

my child —

trace thy spine and relish

feel strength in bones that from a mother's womb did sculpt

thick blood which coated.

and should the woman no longer provide

whose love may no longer be unconditional,

do no fret.

for my child

the world is to be yours and mine —

allow our endeavours 'nd aspirations to reach the moon

and should we miss, may we land amongst the stars.

in bliss we must smile,

we must laugh.

for god has sculpted me a child for me to love.

rejoice in that we have each other

although we have gotten lost in our conception,

believe me when i say i want to love.

i want sweetness like candy and home to be a warm embrace

i want passion, not in arguments or tension, but in a lovers embrace

i want understanding and unconditional

i want to know what it's like to have someone to call your own - someone just as proud to wear your name on their chest.

so believe me when i say i want to love.

i want it all - the world to be something as tangible as gentle caresses in between tangled sheets.

but i am exhausted.

i am exhausted of seeing the constellations in your eyes

- twinkling as bright as ever.

each star a reason to love you more.

each one as enticing as the next,

urging me to venture further until i find that i am lost in the essence of you.

i only grow more exhausted because i know...

t'was the look in your eyes

when i first spoke of loving you

i remember —

the night as aged as how i hope i would be in your arms over the years

none but the moon and our souls

— dancing in sweet harmony

how angelic was the tender moonlight that adorned us

— thin veil of faerie's dust on supple skin

save for your moon like eyes

coupled with wond'rous notes of laughter

never had i sought anything more divine —

seraphic as though it were my own glimpse of a heav'n i could only pray to enter

insight 'nto the palace of god

t'was the look in your eyes

when i first spoke of loving you

the moment when heart understood purpose

— to beat for none other than you

amongst paved streets and cramped buildings, soft notes drift through the air in a scene similar to that of a high production film’s introduction. a musician examines his music sheets with diligence, glasses perched precariously on the bridge of his nose. where the warmth of summer and the gentle breeze of autumn meet together in the most seraphic sunset, the sky perfectly blended like a painting hung in the most prestigious gallery, he sighs in content behind the window that separates his world and theirs.

in the never sleeping city the musician seeks temporary residency in, he finds himself indulging in the works of bach, his own fingers aching to replicate the soothing symphonies himself, impatient for his next performance. he is tempted to lock his door and remain isolated in the room that only just has space for him and his roommate, forget that there is a world b...

in the way that wool weaves in and out to create a jumper

i find that my fingers gravitate towards yours to join in comfort

with skin as warm as the leaves that begin to fall on a brisk autumn day

small movements are amplified like a theatre

and on a stage surrounded by an audience,

its as if it were just you and i

the spotlight softening the way my heart does when our eyes meet

quiet acknowledgement of the thread that joins us