patriose

[patriose]

Saddest Poem

by Pablo Neruda

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

Write, for instance: “The night is full of stars, and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance.”

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like this, I held her in my arms. I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her. How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. To think I don’t have her. To feel that I’ve lost her.

To hear the immense night, more immense without her. And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.

What does it matter that my love couldn’t keep her. The night is full of stars and she is not with me. That’s all. Far away, someone sings. Far away. My soul is lost without her.

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her. My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

The same night that whitens the same trees. We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her. My voice searched the wind to touch her ear. Someone else’s. She will be someone else’s. As she once belonged to my kisses. Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her. Love is so short and oblivion so long.

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms, my soul is lost without her.

Although this may be the last pain she causes me, and this may be the last poem I write for her.

[patriose]

second place should be good enough

you are nothing when you are not at the top

find me in the choking hold of expectation

in the bruising grip of desperation

expecting and desperate for a taste

the taste of gold medal and the glinting trophy

find me in the shackles of invalidation

in the cage of abrogation

hoping and praying for the sense of accomplishment

and the pleading cry of being stuck in second place

i am nothing while i am not the greatest, i am nothing while i am barely the best. my soul will never be satisfied and my soul will never be assuaged—tell them to look for me where stars fall from their galaxies and where dreams go to die.

[patriose]

greed-quenching and gold-searching

i’ve always associated you as something akin to liquid gold glinting from the ripples of untouched rivers peaking through the curtains during sunday mornings shining through the warmth in my veins when you smile. the thing about gold is that people never realized its value until they hammered it with strongest of strikes and held it under the heat of the sun– and there, they found the safety of the glow you can only find in gold. people have fought for gold for the hole they want to fill through wealth only to leave them emptier than before people have started wars for gold until they start to forget what they fought for in the first place the things is, everyone will love you and long for you because you are gold because you are the symbol of wealth in pierced ears and heavy fingers because people will marvel at the glimmer of jewelry because gold is the quenching of greed but me i love you and will always long for you because not only are you gold but also the years of late nights and hard work and sharpened talent, and the warm embrace of the sun during sunday mornings, because you are not just gold, but also the safety of the glow you can only find in gold i miss you, my golden prince. never let the worst things in this world weaken your shine.

[patriose]

greed-quenching and gold-searching

i've always associated you as something akin to liquid gold glinting from the ripples of untouched rivers peaking through the curtains during sunday mornings shining through the warmth in my veins when you smile. the thing about gold is that people never realized its value until they hammered it with strongest of strikes and held it under the heat of the sun-- and there, they found the safety of the glow you can only find in gold. people have fought for gold for the hole they want to fill through wealth only to leave them emptier than before people have started wars for gold until they start to forget what they fought for in the first place the things is, everyone will love you and long for you because you are gold because you are the symbol of wealth in pierced ears and heavy fingers because people will marvel at the glimmer of jewelry because gold is the quenching of greed but me i love you and will always long for you because not only are you gold but also the years of late nights and hard work and sharpened talent, and the warm embrace of the sun during sunday mornings, because you are not just gold, but also the safety of the glow you can only find in gold i miss you, my golden prince. never let the worst things in this world weaken your shine.

[patriose]

poor girl's prose

I’m poor, i don’t have anything else but words and i will be frank, I’m a wordsmith and I’m wordless when it comes to you.

i was thinking of things to tell you, but the list would be too long and it would involve more than just dramatic words pasted on a tumblr post and there’s just too much to be thankful about like thank you for being the most graceful leader that united seven beautiful, beautiful boys, thank you for untying us during nights where we are tied up by our loneliness, thank you for being the strongest and humblest and most passionate person i know, thank you, thank you, and thank you.

i have almost nothing, i was digging through rotting notebooks filled with poems that have seen the darkest of days, poems that are not just poems loaded with self-contempt and insecurity but poems that have only existed because i didn’t find you yet. as i flit through the pages of desperation and sorrow, i found none of these worthy to give to you. i realized: giving you a glimpse of how i was, how i loathed to be would go against everything better you’ve inspired and pushed me to be (that’s just another thing to thank you for, thank you).

I’m pretentious and i tell people i am rich, i give them the impression that these words i have stem spontaneously, some bank account of words i can withdraw from anytime. i pretend more times than i could count that when i saw you in person (180 feet away, i measured) it was enough for me and it filled me and it made me whole again and i have to remind myself that it’s okay i wont get to tell you in person how much you mean to me and how much you saved me, i pretend that this stupid prose of a broke girl is enough and that this equated to the hundred galaxies that you deserve. I’m pretentious, and i pretend that hearing your voice loads up so much words that it makes me so rich again doesnt make me so terrified that someone like you can heal so much broken parts of me(so far the pretending is going well, thank you).

i am poor and this is the prose i’ve been saving up a lot on and I’m giving all of these to you.

i want to give you the world but all i have are words, and not even bleeding a thousand of it from my pen will justify the things you deserve, so I’m giving you this poem that is not just a poem but all my riches and a human heart. and I’m hoping it’ll be enough.

[patriose]

i was lost, i was looking for my way back home (but now i have you and you're everything i've been looking for my whole life)

the ocean has always been so silent and dark. i do not know of the worlds we would find when swimming through all of it. perhaps the worlds i did know i have left and have left me lie somewhere, forgetting but never forgiving.

the ocean has always been so vast and wide, i can only imagine the number that know you and about you, the smallest percentage of it i am a part of. all of us will listen for every word you say and every song you sing—but people have always been fickle and the ocean's tides are ever-changing.

what i'm trying to say is: there will be the most tumultuous of nights and the calmest of days in the ocean, and time will come that they will forget your song but know that i always, always keep an ear out for it.

happy birthday, i am nowhere near you but you are always with me and i really, really hope to see you again

[patriose]

where things end up differently than how they did here

somewhere, in a world no one can travel to, we will find each other. perhaps youve heard of alternate realities and parallel universes, worlds that are made of the decisions we didn’t make and paths we didn’t take. they rise, ever so subtly, to the surface every time we think of something, rippling through the fabric of space and time the way a single flutter of a butterfly’s wings adds to the winds that blow across the world. perhaps in a different dimension you are not you, and i am not me. maybe i’ll know you, not as the boy in a famous group but as the boy with a bunny smile that lives in the nearby neighborhood. maybe you’ll know me, not as general representation of a whole population that love you but as the girl that works in the cafe that serves the best cheesecakes. maybe we will never even know the other exists. maybe we’ll know each other in ways either more or less than how we know each other now.

maybe we’ll call each other home.

perhaps it is the desperate part of me, pleading for this reality to be what i want it to be, pleading with this universe to be more than just a story of you never knowing someone like me, pleading for better days to come, pleading, and pleading again. perhaps in an alternate reality i could accept this.

(the multiverse addles your brain more than you think.) perhaps in every universe out there you wouldn’t be the boy in a famous group but you would still be the boy with the softest heart with so much love to give, and you would still be the boy with the bunny smile and that beautiful mind.

we may live different, act different, speak different, and the resemblance between worlds may stretch thin, but i am obsessed to think that in every world you would still feel like home.

even now, i call you home.

not even the most evil of worlds can take the gentle rise of your smile and the twinkling of your wide eyes. the same strive to be the best you can be would guarantee to inspire anyone you meet in any of the realities. in this universe, this comforts me more than words can say. you are still you and i am still me. in another world when i reach for you it is not thin air i clutch but your hand, rough and soft at the same time, yet they are still the hands that have worked hard to be wherever they are today in this world and in others, and whatever you ended up being, I’m sure it is still the best of you there is. somewhere, in a world only we know, we still found each other.

happy birthday, i’ll see you when i do.

[patriose]

happy birthday, i miss and love you so this one's for you.

#happyjungkookday

where things end up differently than how they did here

somewhere, in a world no one can travel to, we will find each other. perhaps youve heard of alternate realities and parallel universes, worlds that are made of the decisions we didn’t make and paths we didn’t take. they rise, ever so subtly, to the surface every time we think of something, rippling through the fabric of space and time the way a single flutter of a butterfly’s wings adds to the winds that blow across the world. perhaps in a different dimension you are not you, and i am not me. maybe i’ll know you, not as the boy in a famous group but as the boy with a bunny smile that lives in the nearby neighborhood. maybe you’ll know me, not as general representation of a whole population that love you but as the girl that works in the cafe that serves the best cheesecakes. maybe we will never even know the other exists. maybe we’ll know each other in ways either more or less than how we know each other now.

maybe we’ll call each other home.

perhaps it is the desperate part of me, pleading for this reality to be what i want it to be, pleading with this universe to be more than just a story of you never knowing someone like me, pleading for better days to come, pleading, and pleading again. perhaps in an alternate reality i could accept this.

(the multiverse addles your brain more than you think.) perhaps in every universe out there you wouldn’t be the boy in a famous group but you would still be the boy with the softest heart with so much love to give, and you would still be the boy with the bunny smile and that beautiful mind.

we may live different, act different, speak different, and the resemblance between worlds may stretch thin, but i am obsessed to think that in every world you would still feel like home.

even now, i call you home.

not even the most evil of worlds can take the gentle rise of your smile and the twinkling of your wide eyes. the same strive to be the best you can be would guarantee to inspire anyone you meet in any of the realities. in this universe, this comforts me more than words can say. you are still you and i am still me. in another world when i reach for you it is not thin air i clutch but your hand, rough and soft at the same time, yet they are still the hands that have worked hard to be wherever they are today in this world and in others, and whatever you ended up being, I’m sure it is still the best of you there is. somewhere, in a world only we know, we still found each other.

happy birthday, i’ll see you when i do.

[patriose]

where things end up differently than how they did here

somewhere, in a world no one can travel to, we will find each other. perhaps youve heard of alternate realities and parallel universes, worlds that are made of the decisions we didn't make and paths we didn't take. they rise, ever so subtly, to the surface every time we think of something, rippling through the fabric of space and time the way a single flutter of a butterfly's wings adds to the winds that blow across the world. perhaps in a different dimension you are not you, and i am not me. maybe i'll know you, not as the boy in a famous group but as the boy with a bunny smile that lives in the nearby neighborhood. maybe you'll know me, not as general representation of a whole population that love you but as the girl that works in the cafe that serves the best cheesecakes. maybe we will never even know the other exists. maybe we'll know each other in ways either more or less than how we know each other now.

maybe we'll call each other home.

perhaps it is the desperate part of me, pleading for this reality to be what i want it to be, pleading with this universe to be more than just a story of you never knowing someone like me, pleading for better days to come, pleading, and pleading again. perhaps in an alternate reality i could accept this.

(the multiverse addles your brain more than you think.) perhaps in every universe out there you wouldn't be the boy in a famous group but you would still be the boy with the softest heart with so much love to give, and you would still be the boy with the bunny smile and that beautiful mind.

we may live different, act different, speak different, and the resemblance between worlds may stretch thin, but i am obsessed to think that in every world you would still feel like home.

even now, i call you home.

not even the most evil of worlds can take the gentle rise of your smile and the twinkling of your wide eyes. the same strive to be the best you can be would guarantee to inspire anyone you meet in any of the realities. in this universe, this comforts me more than words can say. you are still you and i am still me. in another world when i reach for you it is not thin air i clutch but your hand, rough and soft at the same time, yet they are still the hands that have worked hard to be wherever they are today in this world and in others, and whatever you ended up being, I'm sure it is still the best of you there is. somewhere, in a world only we know, we still found each other.

happy birthday, i'll see you when i do.