i want to have conversations, interesting ones, stimulating ones, where we talk about visiting australia specifically during the month of november because of the magnificent jacaranda trees. let’s go to the annual festival, yeah? you see, i can’t stop talking. i must always talk. i must know where you come from and what you currently identify with. is it your significant other, your university, your weekend getaways? no, i don’t want to know what you learned from your degree. i want to know what you learned in the moments when you fought between crying and studying. i must know the story behind why you never smile with your teeth, why your hair is blue, why you yell at your mother. why you stereotype people based on race, why you’re dating someone you don’t love. i must know the story behind you.
i want to talk about how i didn’t know the real meaning of a poem until you murmered it into my mouth. and i wanted you to recite a second one, and a third one, and for a lifetime. kiss me again, promise to always kiss me. i want to create a 365 calendar marking my love for you. heck, where is the 730 calendar? how silly of me to think that i can count my love for you in days, in years. i want to talk about how i’m a stargazer and you are the constellation. do you ever fall in love with strangers and places you’ve never been? what happens when your dreams seem more alive than reality? people call me a dreamer, but i am as much of a dreamer as i am not. do you ever meet somebody and you realize you both understand each other in a way that no one else can even begin to comprehend? what do you do with people who think they know everything, who believe everything can be put inside a box and stamped a label? it’s an illusion, after all, the way we believe we can control our surroundings with knowledge. tell me, what do you do with uncertainty? does it frighten you? most people seek closure, you are most likely one of them, aren’t you? i must ask you, what puts you in a slow dancing mood? when i’m struck by the world’s beauty, i always seem to stand frozen enraptured by how much the world is communicating to me in its stillness. tell me, tell me, what are you trying to make out of this life of yours? tell me, what keeps you alive and what keeps this world spinning? list me a few, list me a hundred.
but we only live for a few things, they’re quite simple really.
we live for magic, for beauty, for romance.
we live for rhythm, for poems, for art, for each other.
and that is all. that is all.