This is an open love letter
To those who don't know how to love.
This is to the catfish
to the Joey Lagos'
to those that eat too much ice cream alone.
to anyone that's been disappointed.
those who feel in secret, fighting to deny it.
those who care too much, but don't know how to show it.
those that are in love but are too ashamed to say it.
The ones that fear discovery but long for acceptance.
To those who are alone, divided seeking solitude while fearing it.
To those who have been burned so many times, they’ve hidden the charred remains,
deep down in a secret place, where nobody, not even themselves can find it.
To the ones that fear love, and the ones that fear it won’t come.
This is to you.
To those that have broken their own hearts, so that nobody else could.
You that watches movies alone, on nights of fridays, body cold
ordering takeout, avoiding cooking for one as it serves a reminder.
This is to those who can’t say I’m sorry
who pick up the phone, only to place it back down.
Loosen the rope.
This is to those who laugh a little too loudly when speaking of feelings
who uncomfortably fidget while being confronted
who close themselves to anything real, living only a half life of a shell
Those who fill silence with everything, dancing around what they shield.
protecting their preciousness with sarcastic exterior,
joking and shying and shrinking from fear.
Those who feel what they feel doesn’t matter
Take my hand. I'll protect you.
Those who feel lonely lying next to another
those too selfish to share, tending only to themselves
you that seeks others, to get away from themselves.
and ones that can't find themselves
because they've lost themselves in somebody else.
To the confused and angry, fabric shoved,
being told by god who to love.
To those too proud, always walking away head high, heart low
those who trust only what weight they can throw
you hearts who beat irregular and slow.
To the broken that sex for sport to prove they’re above love
and the empty who fuck people who don't give a fuck
Those that have walked away from the One, chasing infatuation
to ones that begin to masturbate but can’t finish, erection, losing interest.
Those who’ve driven themselves to madness feigning like addicts
You whose love for ambition impede things of importance
Walk through this with me. Jump in the abyss.
To those that travel in time back to that mistake
that repeat and reshape, repeat and reshape
words from that day tormenting themselves with blame.
Those that survived goodbye to the best friend that still breathes.
The midnight painters of reconciliations,
abruptly waking to present searing, old scars freshly reopened.
Lay your head on my heart, let me wrap you in my dreams.
You who drink to sleep because your soul is in pain, lying gazing face up at night, chest caving in, willing yourself dreams, at times screaming to let it escape. Let it go.
Pour yourself another and stitch yourself together. Remember back to when life tasted better sweeter, before palates had changed balancing bitter liquor to make it better. Back to when you were little, before looking both ways, fearless as sky, with no hill too high or feeling too precious. Before you first skinned knees paying the price of living.
Sweet child, never stop chasing the ups after every down, the sinking that allows the soaring, chase the falls that inevitably come in our search through the twists of our labyrinth, because these? These are just growing pains and we learn that it would not be lifelove without hurt. So find the strength to march through this with me. Throw open those gates, run wildly into the field of creatures and unknown, with brazen abandon, colliding with the spirits of others, bruising laughing shaking the earth.
Tell me, is it that we forget how to love ourselves, or we forget how to love others?
This is written in awe
of those who know how to love.
To the old man on the street
holding the flowers.
To the sacrificing mothers
world weary doctors
the too-friendly neighbors,
and checkers of ‘yes’, organ donor.
to the infants that stare, without your permission, not at you but right through you into the very caves of your soul, locking eyes with yours making you squirm, shame intermingled with acceptance.
To the fathers who don’t have words to say, but actions express them
The worried glimpsers, 5 o’clock news watchers, weeping for strangers
to the grandparents you’ve outgrown but blood you never will
to those whose blood you don’t share but sweat, spit and tears
who set an extra plate at christmas dinner, every year.
To the young man, who pushed down his girlfriend,
at a midnight movie showing, laying body over hers
in a chaos crowded Colorado theatre.
To mirrored bodies embracing freely sharing
the love fought for, in Harvey Milk’s war.
The gentleman in the ripped jeans and fleece pullover,
dropping quarters into cups, of men on the corner.
To those who gave up dreams to build a house with another
the sock folders who cook countless thankless dinners.
Those that change their hair, hoping it’ll make a difference.
to tattooed adults volunteering reading to children
cleansing their spirit to renew innocence.
To those that probe against brick walls
smashing their fingers to reach hearts,
those who open ears, lend shoulders, and usher tears.
back to wherever it is, that tears come from.
The givers. The givers are you.
To those that visit graves.
To the savers receivers of messages on post-its,
savoring the meaning of the world scribbled on them.
The self-assured that fart while sleeping and shit with the door open.
To the few that mistake us for being bigger, so we fight to be better, so they’ll love us for longer
to the fewer who see us just as we are, and love us anyway.
You unicorns. Mythic giants.
To those who give freely and those who reach out to grab it,
those with hearts of lions enough to pour
their insides out for the world,
gambling on being scooped up or stomped on.
Show me how.
To us who’ve drawn for ourselves storybook passion
wishing waiting for bravery, dragons, white stallions
imagining love as one hallmark moment
letting Disney or Hollywood or Jesus even Science define it.
Listen to me. You write it.
Those waiting for lightning to strike them. Know that it’s not an explosion saved for one person, but the infinite steady fire of seven billion. It’s the soft breezes from all corners breathing life into it. Always keep it glowing. Feed it. Remember while tending, to send gentle currents, caring not if they return.
Lovers, while you're breathing take me with you. Take a piece of me. All of you. Sometimes I forget to give myself to you. Remind me. Exchange a piece of yourself to me so that we will always carry each other. If you do this with me, If you do this with me, If you do this with me, by the time it all ends, we will all be so full, so rich with pieces of each other. Gilded in love in our graves all richer than Midas.
Start here with me heart in hands beating.