alsa

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because Kimay’s beautiful

“when was last time it was toughest for you to let go?”, you asked, your eyebrows were ebonies, eyeballs shivered like you wanted to hear something that could hurt you.  i am fond of how composed you are. you are no god and i like you that way. when you are jealous and intimidated, the colors of your cheeks mimic snowfall. the kind of pale that i haven’t seen for real but i have felt—always. there is truth in your timid hands, like how you wanted to wrap them on my shoulder but you’d settle to touch my sleeve a bit and smile oh-so-sweet-and-beaming, walk me under lamp posts. i am so into your cowardice. it is the kind that flips everything then suddenly, feels brave.

perhaps, you’re the boldest thing that life has offered me. simply skin-wrapped, real, scarred by the years. life with you is not the worm wiggling-dangling in a fish hook, it is the toes that dangle- waiting, wailing, then the sun sets and i no longer look forward to the biggest catch. (fatter or fattest)

and to answer your question, i never had trouble with letting go. i admit, these solemarks i carry were caused by the struggle i had with some half-shut knobless doors. but be reminded that i have remained defiant and mighty because i know you’d arrive and that the moment you are right beside me, it will be against gravity. a rise rather than a downfall. blown dandelions. evaporation. unseen mist—  

fallen Isaac Newton and a line of growing wild weeds holding their heels up dancing for the wind.

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