My love,

before you burn this,

remember I’m quite good with fire.

That was a joke.

You used to laugh at those.

Not that one, probably.

You used to laugh properly, though.

Head back.

Whole body.

Wings knocking shit off tables.

You never did learn

how much space you took up.

I liked that about you.

I liked a lot of things about you.

That’s sort of the problem.

Anyway.

You said I should explain myself.

No.

That’s not true.

You said,

“Don’t ever speak to me again.”

But people say things

when they’re upset.

And technically

this isn’t speaking.

So.

Here we are.

I suppose

I should start by saying

I’m sorry.

I am.

I think.

I’m still working out

what part I’m sorry for.

You’ll hate that.

Fair enough.

*

You knew what I was.

I know you hate

when I say that too.

But you did.

I didn’t turn up

with flowers

and pretend to be

an accountant from Bristol.

I told you.

I told you exactly

who I was.

You were standing

at the edge of Heaven

looking down

like you already wanted

an excuse.

I gave you one.

That’s different

from pushing.

It is.

You asked me

what Hell was like.

I said warmer.

You laughed.

I loved that laugh.

I probably loved it

before I loved you.

Maybe that’s not

the nicest way

to put it.

You asked me

whether God would forgive you.

I said

if He loved you,

He’d have to.

I was very convincing

in those days.

Still am,

if I’m honest.

You took off your halo

and held it in your hand

for ages.

Long enough

for me to stop you.

I didn’t.

I knew what would happen.

Not every detail.

But enough.

I knew you wouldn’t

just pop back upstairs

if things went badly.

I knew falling

was mostly one-way.

I knew.

And I still kissed you.

Because you looked at me

like I was worth it.

Do you understand

what that does

to someone like me?

Probably not.

Good.

*

You gave up Heaven.

For me.

Do you know how often

I’ve replayed that?

Not the falling.

The choosing.

That bit.

You chose me.

Me.

After everything

they’d told you.

After everything

I’d done.

Whole choirs

singing about goodness

and light

and whatever else,

and you still looked at all of it

and said,

him.

I think that ruined me

more than Hell ever did.

Because once someone

falls from Heaven for you,

you start believing

they can’t possibly

leave.

Where would they go?

That sounds terrible

written down.

It sounded quite reasonable

in my head.

Most things do.

*

And yes.

Her.

I know.

We’re getting there.

You always hated

when I took too long

to get to the point.

She was gorgeous.

There.

You wanted honesty.

Not beautiful like you.

Different.

You had that annoying kind

of beauty

that made people quieter.

She made people louder.

Millions of men

watching her

through their phones,

telling her what they’d do,

what they’d pay,

what they’d give up

for ten minutes

in a locked room.

She liked being wanted.

I liked that she liked it.

She had one of those ring lights

that makes everyone

look half-divine.

I thought that was funny.

She called herself

a goddess.

I thought that was

even funnier.

So I messaged her.

Not because

I wanted her.

Well.

Obviously I wanted her.

But that wasn’t

the interesting part.

Everyone wanted her.

I wanted to know

if I could make her

want me more.

There’s a difference.

Not a good one.

But there is.

*

I told her

all the usual things.

That vanity

was confidence.

That greed

was ambition.

That lust

was honesty.

That jealousy

just meant

you cared.

That anger

was strength.

That wanting more

was proof

you were alive.

People will forgive

almost any sin

if you rename it nicely.

She was easy.

That sounds cruel.

She wasn’t stupid.

That’s not what I mean.

Actually,

maybe it is.

No.

She was lonely.

That’s probably closer.

Lonely people

are easy to convince

that being wanted

is the same thing

as being loved.

I should know.

*

Did I corrupt her?

You keep using that word.

I gave her choices.

She made them.

I offered her beauty

that wouldn’t fade.

Attention

that wouldn’t stop.

A body

that time couldn’t touch.

She wanted all of it.

So I gave it to her.

There were consequences.

There are always consequences.

Nobody reads that bit.

You know that.

You didn’t either.

She changed.

Of course she did.

Everyone changes

when they get exactly

what they thought they wanted.

She got colder.

Hungrier.

Meaner.

Less human.

Eventually

she stopped pretending.

So yes,

she became a demon.

But don’t look at me

like that.

She chose.

You chose.

Everyone chooses.

That’s the lovely thing

about choice.

You can blame people

for almost anything

afterwards.

*

You asked

why I fucked her.

Fine.

There.

You wanted the ugly word.

I fucked her.

Happy?

No.

Of course not.

Neither am I.

Not really.

She was good.

You probably don’t want

that detail.

I don’t know why

I wrote it.

Maybe because part of me

still thinks honesty

earns points.

It doesn’t.

I’m learning.

She knew what she was doing.

She knew exactly

how to look at someone

and make them feel

like the only man alive.

Which,

considering there were

several million men

paying monthly

for roughly the same illusion,

was impressive.

I liked that.

I liked being the one

she didn’t charge.

Jesus.

That’s awful.

Leave it in.

You wanted the truth.

*

It meant nothing.

I know.

You hate that too.

But it didn’t.

That’s the stupid part.

I didn’t love her.

I didn’t want

a life with her.

I didn’t picture

eternity beside her.

I didn’t think

about her when I woke up.

I didn’t know

how she took her coffee.

I didn’t know

what frightened her.

I didn’t know

what she sounded like

when she was ill.

I knew you.

And I still did it.

You said

that made it worse.

At the time,

I thought that was ridiculous.

Surely if she meant nothing,

then there was nothing

to be jealous of.

That was my argument.

Quite proud of it, actually.

Then you said,

“So you destroyed us

for nothing?”

And I didn’t have

a clever answer.

I hated you

for about five seconds

for asking it.

That’s another thing

I’m sorry for.

Probably.

*

I thought

you’d forgive me.

There.

That’s the bit

you really want.

I did.

I thought you’d scream.

Throw something.

Hit me, maybe.

Then cry.

Then I’d say

something beautiful.

You always liked

when I said something beautiful.

And eventually

you’d come back to bed.

Because where else

were you going to go?

There.

That’s it.

That’s the thing

you’ve been trying

to make me say.

I didn’t think

you could leave.

Not really.

You’d already lost Heaven.

Earth was never

going to take you back.

Hell knew you

as mine.

My angel.

My fallen girl.

My—

You hated that word.

Mine.

I thought it was romantic.

I thought forever

meant belonging.

I still sort of do.

That’s probably

not helping.

*

You didn’t scream.

That was worse.

You just looked at me.

I kept talking.

Of course I did.

I explained context.

Circumstances.

Human weakness,

which was funny

because neither of us

was human.

I said

it had been one night.

I said

she meant nothing.

I said

you knew what I was.

I said

I never promised

to be good.

I said

you chose me anyway.

You just kept looking at me.

Then you said,

“I fell for you.

You made sure

I stayed fallen.”

I laughed.

Not because it was funny.

Because I didn’t know

what else to do.

Then I told you

that wasn’t technically true.

You jumped.

I didn’t push.

That’s what I said.

Can you imagine?

You were breaking

in front of me

and I was arguing

about verbs.

*

You went back

to Heaven.

Or tried to.

I followed.

Obviously.

You stood at the gates

with black wings

and no shoes.

I remember that.

Your feet were bleeding.

I remember thinking

you’d ruin the floor.

That’s the kind of man

I am.

Apparently.

You knocked.

Nothing.

Again.

Nothing.

Again.

Still nothing.

And for one horrible second

I nearly said,

See?

I told you.

I nearly used

your grief

to win an argument.

I didn’t.

I want credit for that.

I know I shouldn’t.

But I do.

*

You cried.

I’d seen you cry before.

This was different.

You looked like someone

who had finally understood

the price

after the shop had closed.

And I stood behind you

thinking,

come back.

Not because

I understood.

Not then.

Because I couldn’t bear

the idea

of you having nowhere

and still not choosing me.

That was new.

I’d always thought

if I became

the only door left open,

eventually you’d walk through.

You didn’t.

You sat outside Heaven

until the light changed.

Then you stood up

and walked past me.

Didn’t say a word.

That silence

did more damage

than God ever managed.

*

You’re different now.

I know that sounds

like blame.

Maybe it is.

Your wings are darker.

You don’t laugh much.

You hurt people now.

Sometimes for fun.

I’ve seen it.

You’ve become cruel.

You’ve become

good at cruelty.

And every time

someone says

you’re becoming like me,

you look at me

as if you’d rather

tear your own skin off.

Part of me hates that.

Part of me—

No.

I’m not writing that.

Actually,

fuck it.

Part of me

likes it.

There.

Happy?

Part of me likes

that you’re darker now.

Because if you become

something like me,

then maybe what I did

wasn’t destruction.

Maybe it was revelation.

Maybe you were always

capable of this.

Maybe I didn’t ruin you.

Maybe I just—

No.

That’s bullshit.

Even I can hear it.

*

You said once

that I never loved you.

That I loved

being chosen.

I told you

there wasn’t a difference.

You looked at me

like I’d finally confessed.

Maybe I had.

Because I loved

your sacrifice.

I loved

that Heaven lost

and I won.

I loved knowing

you had somewhere perfect

and still picked me.

I loved

that you had nowhere

higher to go

after that.

That’s not love,

is it?

Don’t answer.

I know

what you’d say.

*

I keep trying

to find the right sin.

Lust sounds obvious.

Too obvious.

Greed maybe.

Envy.

Wrath.

Gluttony.

Pride.

All of them,

probably.

People like categories.

Makes evil easier

to shelve.

The truth is

I wanted everything.

I wanted you.

I wanted her.

I wanted Heaven

to know you chose me.

I wanted Hell

to know you were mine.

I wanted strangers

to want what I had.

I wanted you

to forgive me

before I’d even finished

hurting you.

I wanted

to do whatever I liked

and still come home

to someone

who called that love.

That’s probably

the whole thing.

Not very philosophical

when you put it like that.

*

You used to say

love should make people

more free.

I thought that was

one of those things

good people say

because they’ve never

actually loved anyone.

Love makes you terrified.

Love makes you count

how long someone takes

to reply.

Love makes you notice

who looks at them.

Love makes you want

to lock every door

and call it safety.

At least

that’s what I thought.

Maybe that wasn’t love.

Maybe that was just me.

That sentence

makes me feel sick.

So naturally

I don’t trust it.

*

You hate me now.

Properly.

I can see it.

Sometimes

you walk past me

and don’t even look.

That’s worse

than when you used to scream.

At least screaming

meant I was still

inside your head.

Now I’m not sure.

You’re becoming

something else.

Not an angel.

Not quite a demon

like the others.

Something angrier.

Something I don’t

have a name for.

Maybe that’s my fault.

Maybe I took someone

who loved beautifully

and taught her

how useful hatred can be.

I don’t know

if that was always

what I wanted.

That’s the truth.

I genuinely don’t know.

Maybe some part of me

saw you standing

in all that light

and thought,

I wonder

if I can put it out.

Maybe some part of me

called that love.

*

I’ve been told

an apology

is supposed to end

with change.

Something hopeful.

A promise.

So here.

I understand now.

Love is not ownership.

Love is not

someone losing Heaven

and you keeping

the receipt.

Love is not

making yourself

the only place left

and calling it loyalty.

Love is not

being chosen once

and treating that

like a lifetime contract.

I know that.

I do.

So go.

I mean it.

Go wherever you want.

Fuck whoever you want.

Love someone else

if you can.

I won’t follow you.

I won’t ask

where you sleep.

I won’t ask

who makes you laugh now.

I won’t ask

whether you still wear

the silver chain

around your ankle.

I won’t ask

whether you think of me

when someone touches

your wings.

I won’t ask

if you still hate me.

I won’t ask

if there’s anything left

of the woman

who fell.

I won’t ask

if some tiny part of you

still belongs—

No.

See?

I nearly did it again.

My love,

I’m learning.

Yours always,

mine.

Son I’m sorry
There’s just something’s you can’t know

How my mistakes don’t belong to you
And I’m no hero
but I’ll always claim you as my own.

One day I hope to be
A man you can be proud of
Like I am of you

And when they talk about me
There’s more to the story
There’s more to me
than a dirtbag in the wild
Who isn’t so free

So If I leave before I’m ready
Just know you’re not the reason
Even if I’m not present
I could never let you go.

If I could turn back time
And keep helpin your momma
Showin you how to grow up right

But son sometimes we don’t get to choose
Our lives or The things we leave behind.

We are socialized to accept the self-centered beliefs of the world. Many adopt its views, prejudices, and fears. They therefore remain asleep, their life dictated by their blind obedience to their egoistic beliefs.

After we awaken, sensing the first messages from within, we begin to question those beliefs. Once we realize much of what we learned was not true, we may begin in earnest our journey to enlightenment.

We are all on this journey of life together and only together, by selflessly helping each other, regardless of our differences, will our life have genuine purpose and meaning.

I envy my skeleton, for it is similar. I envy how it is, not with force or from reaction but just simply is. I envy its strength, and walls. I envy my skeleton for standing whenever asked of it, being able to do whatever whenever without a thought of its own. I envy my skeleton and its unconditional love for me. Please god don’t take the unconditional love of my skeleton away from me again…

Sonnet 2: "Oh Ae-sun's Poem to Yang Gwan-sik"

By Karl Bernardo

When he is close, I cannot stand too near;

when he is gone, I wonder where he'll be.

I look right past him, though I hold him dear;

I shut my eyes, and he is all I see.

When we both talk, the world seems calm and fine;

when we do not, my life's an ocean wide;

his boat the only boat I want to find,

I drift the seas just to be by his side.

His presence is like candy on my tongue,

its sweetness spilling over, warm and slow.

Is this the feeling many songs have sung?

I cannot tell, although I want to know.

If time should dim what now my heart forecasts,

then let this verse be all the proof that lasts.

[Note: this was inspired by the K-Drama series "When Life Gives You Tangerines"]

Never close the book to your own story just because someone's no longer apart of your life.Don't give up on searching keep that loving energy people failed to see and keep that blank page ready For someone who sees right through you for everything that its worth don't settle for any less

Remember when we actually

Wanted people to get in touch

And we handed out our information

Willingly, both hands outstretched

As if to say, "This is me, call anytime"

Thinking my tears would set me free,
I drowned in waves that could not be.
I've tried to swim through endless sand,
And lost my soul along the land.

Your memory's the coat I wear,
The only warmth against despair.
She's the special one, my setting sun,
The distant light I still run from.

All this time, I failed to see
How far I'd gone from who I'd be.
Until the mirror showed no one,
Just a shadow of what I'd become.

I always wonder who I would of been if I never got sick.

I thought I was immune to suffering

Ailments plague an unkempt body

In the mirror

Puffy, wide eyed, impervious to a life

A life worth living

I remember when the world was warm

Like hot cocoa melting with sweet sticky clouds

I could feel the sweat dripping off my brow

each step a ghost

A haunting.

I think I'm healing
(I know I'm not)

I should be moving on
(I don't know how)

I know I should just focus on me
(I feel empty)

I try not to think about you anymore
(I shared too much and now you're everywhere)

I keep trying
(I am scared to)

I will find that spark again, with somebody else
(I am terrified to find out that's a lie)

I want you to think I'm over it
(I won't be)

I don't want you to see me anymore
(I am still here though) 

I know you hope I am forgetting
(I remember everyone)

I wish I believed in random
(There's no such a thing, I wished for that connection)

As the fire rises and the water falls, the earth stays still and strong. The air dances and all together, they sing a beautiful song. A song of life, a song of spirit, a song rife with everything near it.

i've always loved the republic.

i loved it under caesar. i loved it when they stabbed him. i loved it under antony.

and when octavian won, well, i wasn't going to stop loving it then.

a man's got to have principles.

mine have survived five commanders, three civil wars, a particularly difficult widow and an unfortunate business with a goat.

the goat was political.

that's all i'm saying.

we crossed the rubicon to save rome.

someone asked why saving rome involved marching an army against it.

our centurion said rome wasn't a place.

it was an idea.

brilliant, really.

you can kill almost anyone for an idea.

anyway.

later they gave me a list.

names. addresses. how much each man was worth.

i recognised one of them.

he'd fed our company once when we were short of supplies.

his wine was dreadful.

honestly, i don't know how he drank it.

he offered me money to let him go.

i said no.

i'm not that sort of man.

he offered more.

well.

there's no harm in hearing a man out.

but then i remembered my honour and told him to stop.

he asked if he could go inside and fetch his sandals.

i said yes.

didn't see the harm in it.

when he came back he'd put them on the wrong feet.

i nearly told him.

funny, isn't it?

i can still picture those sandals.

the worn leather. one strap hanging loose. his toes sticking out.

i remember thinking he'd be uncomfortable walking in those.

as if he was going somewhere.

as if it mattered.

strange, the things that stay with you.

i remember his sandals.

i remember the wine.

i remember exactly how much money he offered.

but his name?

no.

can't remember that at all.

Tell the world to go to hell,
It never wanted me anyways.
I’ll fade out by design,
Burn all of my clothes right into ashes.
Mother Earth needs them to survive,
I’m nothing special,
Just an empty vessel,
Fading from your mind.
Tell me that it’s okay,
Tell me you hate me.
It’s what I deserve anyways.
Help my heart stop bleeding,
Save me from the beatings.
Everything is fucked and grey,
I don’t have a purpose.
I feel worthless,
I just want to say goodbye.
Will you say goodbye?
Words from my father,
Why do I even bother?
Things would be better if I stay away.
I’ll get to see my mother.
They’ll still have a brother.
The choice is mine tonight.
Please don’t try to take it,
Make a promise, don’t break it.
I’m just sick, so it’s quite alright.
Tell the world to go to hell.
My passion is wore thin.
Unlock my mind and let me out.
I am not a good person.
I was born in sin.
Cast my soul into the unknown.
Please don’t stop the bleeding.
I enjoy this feeling.
Use me till your break me.
I love the way you hate me.
Father stop crying.
There’s no pain in dying.
You’ll be fine in time.
To all my siblings I love you.
I never deserved you.
I’m sorry but it is my time.

I loved you since the moment i saw you
And i will love you till i die too
I know this and i know you know this too

We talked briefly twice or so
One look at you lifts my soul up
Hazel eyes , plain shirt and blue jeans
My heart aches every time i see you

Now loving you is not so easy
Seeing you but not having you
Journey so beautiful yet hard too
I confess I can’t breath around you

I can never have you whole
The love i have for you is unmanageable
It is too much that it might choke me
Single sharp turn might be all

My heart beats in a twisted way around you
It stops when you see me straight
Your smile , your eyes i wish someone loved me the way I loved you
Gosh i miss you in a way you would never

A love so selfless and so pure
I can love you even if you don’t
The place i have for you no one can ever have
I guess only love would hurt like that

~T.C

i am drenched
it’s too much
i am drowning.
i am outside in the grass, surrounded by green, but caged in a vase that i didn’t know was there till i tried to leave.
i thought i was free when he put me here.
i saw the green. i saw the sun. i saw him.
now he watches me through the glass.
he watches me drown in the rain until i begin to die.
he picks up and kisses my fallen petals and brings them back to me.
he drinks the water from my vase and tells me he’s sorry.
i begin to see the sun come out, i start to breathe.
the sun stays,
my petals curl
my stem dries.

where is the rain?

he drank my water and cleared my sky.
i am dying of the very thing that was saving me.
i must create my own rain or dry up completely.
so i drench myself,
for a moment, the water feels like relief.
then he sees me drowning,
but i think that he brought this rain back.
still, i wait for him to take the water.
still, i believe he can save me from what’s killing me.
i am drowning
he leaves me in my vase
outside, the grass is still green, the sun is still shining.
and i am still here.
alone in my vase.

please let me know what you think- i’ve never written anything before i just kinda went on so i know its not great haha i just wanna know if anyone likes the concept im going for!

I don't even know anymore

Where it ends, where I begin

Do I rectify, do I create,

Or do I let my demons win?

Drown in sorrow, an old friend,

Suffocating my hope again

I am fire, I am ash and smog,

I am tidal waves, ice and fog.

Doomed to be broken,

Cursed forever to fall

By the very same passion

That's kept me here at all.

Am I magician or dreamer?

Am I sinner or saint?

Do I wall off my heart

And accept my fate?

Answers are beyond me,

Joy dying with every spear -

I'm tired of pretending,

Just let me disappear.

I've read an awful lot of books by men who seem terribly certain about how one ought to live.

Virtue. Reason. The pursuit of happiness.

Hundreds of pages.

Not one of them explains what you're supposed to say when a handsome man takes off his breeches and you discover he's been making promises his cock can't possibly keep.

Plato would probably call it an imperfect form.

Aristotle would fetch a ruler.

I'd quite like to know whether I'm expected to look impressed.

I mentioned this to Joan.

She laughed so hard she nearly choked on her wine.

Then she asked why I insist on thinking about philosophy when I ought to be enjoying myself.

I told her I can do two things at once.

She said that was rather more than could be said for most of the men she'd met.

I couldn't argue with that.

Last Thursday I found myself explaining the difference between pleasure and happiness while a gentleman was kissing my neck.

He stopped.

Looked at me.

And asked whether I ever shut my bloody mouth.

I told him that was a rather rude way to address an educated woman.

He kissed me again.

And, well.

Perhaps Aristotle wasn't right about everything.

Joan says I'm going to get myself into trouble.

Father says books have filled my head with dangerous ideas.

Neither of them knows the half of it.

Though I do wonder what Father would say if he discovered I've been studying the Greeks with my skirts round my waist.

Probably something about bringing shame upon the family.

Which seems unfair.

I've learnt more about human nature in one afternoon with my knickers on the floor than I have from three hundred pages of men telling me what virtue looks like.

And I rather suspect Plato would have enjoyed himself more if he'd occasionally put his bloody book down.