You are a sentence with no punctuation, a kaleidoscope full of colors that I don’t remember learning in elementary school. Your voice is a sound that I’ve been looking for my entire life. Your smile is the only sunrise worth setting my alarm clock early enough to see. If I could, I would shape shift into the first thing you think about in the morning just so I can be reminded of what it’s like to wake up next to you.
I love you in a language I don’t fully understand; in words I haven’t found enough courage to forklift out of my chest. I heard that karma is a vengeful and also a light sleeper so I’ve chosen to love you like this. Quietly.
So I’ll call your phone and hang up before it actually rings. I’ll write you letters that you will never read and when I see you in public I’ll stick my hand inside of a bag full of things I haven’t done since you left me and pull out a smile. I’ll say something like, “Hello, it’s nice to see you.” And I’ll keep walking.
SO. freaking. magic. I post a lot of his stuff, but everything he writes is so marvelous, I can’t help myself.
here is more
there will be days when you will feel like peacock with no feathers, you will feel flightless and undeserving of attention.
But listen, listen to me listen, you have to stop getting out of bed like you were an oil spill. You’re not a flat tire at 2 am, so stop acting like an accident. You are an apple on a pine tree in a room full of lemons. And you come from a long line of swiss army pocket knives: men who are small, sharp, and dangerous when not handled carefully.
-Seventeen, Rudy Francisco