YOU’RE NOT THE ONLY ONE I KNOW

Where’s the harm in voicing a doubt?

BRICK BY BRICK, PIECE BY PIECE

I feel myself becoming softer, more tender. I’ve been writing about love a lot, it’s what I’m experiencing most. I won’t apologize for that, though providing context is important in building a relationship with you, the reader. More emotions to follow, but hopefully not soon. These two pieces of writing began in New York and were finished upon returning to Phoenix. They feel like musings—prayer even.

I like to view my writing as prayer, though at times it veers into confession. I’ll let you discern between the two.

I’ll be heading to Tucson in the coming weeks, with more writing to follow.

IF I TOLD YOU I WAS LYING, WOULD YOU BELIEVE ME?

They say I’m too particular—with lovers, with music, with art. I tell them I’d rather die than be indifferent. I tell them that if the passion doesn’t make my skin melt, then I’d rather be alone. If it doesn’t fill me to the brim, then no thank you. Indifference is the death of man, and I want to live. I want to be completely barren or overflowing, not half-empty nor half-full.

I’m starting to accept that I need a love that will engulf me. Relentless pursuit. Unyielding devotion. Unconditional surrender. I know that love needs kindling; a spark, no matter how small, can turn into a wildfire. But I need to be consumed by it. I’m aware this can lead to heartache, but there is beauty in the pain—something to be discovered, uncovered. The journey. The experience.

But I don’t need to be rescued; somebody already broke my heart, and you might too. Loving and being loved is something I desire so deeply, and it neither intimidates nor elicits fear—from my friends, my family, and from you. But if it’s not 100%, please leave me alone and keep it away from me, for my time here is limited, and I’d like to spend it enthralled by passion—romance, heartbreak, pain. Everything that encapsulates the human experience, making it both singular and universal.

Love is for lovers—who the fuck else?

TAKE ME WHERE YOUR HEART IS

A third of my heart was left in New York City. Left with my friends, left with the people of Queens, left in a city with a romance that can be felt in the air—yet still, a place so sour, so very sour. Every interaction weighs heavy on the tongue, like a bad joke. Five days—such a long, long time to be gone, and yet a short time to be there.

Another third of my heart remains in Phoenix, with the heat that shaped me, hardening me—melting me. My first love. A place that continues to give me everything. A piece of me will remain, observing, feeling. The sun is harsh, like the people of Manhattan, but unlike the crass people of the island, I know the heat will leave, and I can wait it out. Phoenix—this must be the place.

The remainder of my heart belongs to you. Your love is king, and I’m on my knees—anywhere you are, I’ll be.

DEMAND LOVE EVEN AS THE SUN EXPLODES

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