balmy pulsar
You said you hated me,
but it was right after
one of my pointless jokes.
And you were smiling —
a good smile,
glowing under the golden sun.
That mattered more
than any “I love you.”
Feeling, sometimes, hurts.
Not in a bad way —
it’s that ache in the chest,
the kind you need
to understand it’s love.
I think the moment I fell for you,
I signed a sentence
no judge could ever rule on
except myself:
defendant and guilty
of my own case.
To love you
is to freeze time while you speak.
Because damn the world —
nothing else matters
but your voice
brushing softly against my ears.
Dying for you
might be out of fashion.
Even though you know
I’d do it without thinking twice.
But better than that, my dear,
let me live for you.
It’s more beautiful.
And far less tragic.
Let me turn you into my art,
love you to the edge,
give myself to every afternoon.
My God, I need this.
I need you.
To live for you.
To have a reason.
Please, take my hand.
Let me show you
what love is —
like this:
desperate,
true,
a little worn by life.
One chance —
that’s all I ask.
We run far
and somehow still end up close.
Afraid, I know.
But does that matter
when we talk about love?
You and me, my love.
You and me.
The world will fit
inside our hands.
Oceans will look like cups of water.
Entire forests
will shrink into proud treetops.
We’ll be as tall as Everest,
as beautiful as the sky
on nights with no shine on the ground.
The future will remain uncertain,
blank —
but ready to be written.
Love will be uncertain too,
frightening.
There will be days
when the world weighs
on our shoulders,
days when they’ll tell us to run,
to run without stopping.
But… what if we stay?
Against every warning.
Proving to the world
that our love is worth more
than any fear,
more than the wasted murmurs
lurking in the shadows.
And what if our “love”, my dear,
simply
proves itself
to be love?
frank ocean
edgy arrow
slow wagon
pulsar plume
keen willow
lost plaza