you will never grow old

 

don’t get me wrong, juan ponce de leon.
you see, i don’t actually believe that you’ve discovered
the fountain of youth.

when i say – “my dear, you will never grow old.”
i mean it in the figurative sense.
because i’m trying to be poetic and shit.
(and btw, i’ll add “and shit” because i’m trying
to sharpen this cheddar – the cheese, that is.)

to clarify, when i say what i’ve written that i’ve said,
i don’t mean that i could look at you all night and day.
or even spend time with you endlessly,
without needing a break from time to time.
nor am i implying that there won’t be times when you bore the
h-e-double-hockey-stick (*ahem* HELL) out of me.
because who knows? you just might.

but listen.

because what i am really trying to say.
what i really mean by all of this. is that
i am so completely thrilled and altogether terrified by the fact that
i will never run out of things to learn about you.

and how do i know that, you wonder?
how can i know that the moment won’t arrive someday, when
we look at each other with disappointing familiarity
and wonder – “good lord, what have we done?”

well, the way i see it:
one, we don’t spend every minute together (and thank god for that).
two, we were already many, many minutes old when we first met.
and three, there’s an infinite number of things we are still discovering about ourselves, and an infinite number of ways in which we are still changing, growing, and evolving.

now i’m no mathematician.
but when i add and subtract the relevant sums, i find that
there simply aren’t enough minutes in this feeble, finite lifetime
to cover it all.

an eternity could pass, and i could never learn all the wonderful things about you. the moments – both memorable and minuscule – that make you who you are.

but i am here now, and you are here now.
and my appetite for you is insatiable,
paling only in comparison to
the infinity of you.

so as the years roll by, we will continue to age.
but you, my dear, will never grow old.

the roof

 

limestone steps.
two, three at a time –
our famished legs covered such ground
with unexpected ease.

i looked back at you
right index pressed to my lips,
dissecting a cheeky grin.

holding back hushed laughter,
we’d kept it together past security
and couldn’t dare lose it now.

at last, one obstacle remained.
i jimmied that old bronze lock
and whispered a little prayer.
the deadbolt shifted;
and in an instant, we were free.

the manifesto: part one

 

i’m a midwest boy
with heart in my lungs
there’s seoul in these bones
(though it missed my tongue)

youngest of three
by a margin of ten
born to a home
ruled by a hen

five of us all
four parents, i cite
each working hard
to raise me up right

one taught me duty & principle.
another, serenity.
the third piqued a desire to create,
and the last defined how to lead.

more a result of others
than indeed, of myself
makes one quite humbled
to have been granted such help.

peace

 

these notes have addressed many you’s over the years,
but it feels as though eons have elapsed
since the last time a “you” was… you.

…yet here i am.
eyes heavy; heart slow; breaths deep;
the sun – come and gone.
and you..
your fragrance seeps serenely into my mind.
fills in those cracks the way it used to…

we spoke on the telephone,
recently.
for the first time
since the last time
i whispered your name to the night.

slowly, you decanted reparations
for debts i hadn’t known.
from times long enough ago, that
the memories i recalled seemed more like
– frozen frames –
from a long since forgotten film.
efforts were made to remember relevant
scenes, contexts, and plot twists.

 

when you had finished,
i paused.
considered.
inhaled, then exhaled.
responded with few words,
which stayed with you more than i had expected them to:

“it will always matter,
but it will always be o.k.”

…i didn’t quite know what else to say.

you used to say that life is what happens
when we’re busy making other plans.
in the most tragically beautiful sense,
i do agree.

ivories

 

the way she played them ivories,
breathing life into those keys –
they crackled as twigs do when fed to fire.

the way her poise relaxed ever so slightly
as she sensed his approach.
he; mesmerized by her melodies,
heart swaying to the rhythm of her soul –

lost… and found, in one serendipitous beat.

 

he loved those collarbones,
and how the nape of her neck
gently ushered flowing sinews
over her shoulders.
her delicate skin
draping neatly upon her figure,
silhouettes of the beauty of her being
hiding just beneath the surface;
forms barely made visible,
like the way one would protect fine furniture with a cover.

he didn’t dare disturb such magic
as was simmering in the air
and she, sporting a coy grin,
continued playing on… playing on…

When I Die

This song is about the realization that the way you loved someone might have made you the best version of yourself that you could ever be, and also how when you die, you’ll want to leave this world as the best you ever were. So – even though that person might be gone from your life or things didn’t work out – when you die, you’ll try to think of the way you loved that person, because that love made you someone you’d be proud to be.

Lyrics after the jump.

Continue reading…

heart strings

 

the strings of this heart,
once tied tightly in earnest
– quivering at mere whispers –
have since loosened in their resolve.

such supple sinews had hitherto stretched forth,
gayly greeting hands that might have played
implacably dulcet melodies.

if only practice made perfect.

how can it be
that after so few years
and even fewer loves
these strings have so frayed?