Millions and millions of soul
may roam this earth
But I’ll still look for
with the dark brown eyes
and a ready
held my wings
from completely falling apart
as I collided on earth
with smoldering soul
and a burnt out life.
They say don’t make homes out of people. I didn’t listen. Instead I created a home out of you, out of us. And look where it got me. Every time you walk out of the door, it’s as if you’re walking out of my life, and instantly, I would become a homeless restless person, always anxiously waiting for your return, and always fearing that you would never come back.
Sometimes when the wait is too long, and the cold becomes unbearable, and my hands started to freeze, and the silence becomes too much, I make homes out of other people, temporary shelters, renting a space in their own minds, distracting myself from the reality of you and me, and renting a space in their own hearts, borrowing their beautifully lit fire chambers to melt the growing ice glaciers threatening to pierce my own heart, until the time you would walk back in my life.
But it’s been awhile now, and I realized I was never your home to begin with.
Her value does not lessen because of the clothes she chooses to wear, or the intensity of her makeup, or the color of her hair. Her value does not lessen because of the language she speaks, or the color of her skin, or the size of her jeans. Her value definitely does not lessen because of her relationship status, or the number of boyfriends she used to have, or the job she chooses to have.
Remember, the same Creator that made you, that made the sun, the moon, and the stars, and every constellations and galaxies and all the wonderful things you can ever think of, the same Creator who makes all things possible, made her.
He made her possible.
Alive and breathing and able for a reason.
So who are you to judge her when the One who creates everything clothes her with a love that you cannot even surpass?
Her value does not lessen just because you say she is stupid, or a whore, or a bitch. Her value does not lessen just because she is fat, or her bones sticks out and you can ‘feed her to the dogs’.
Her value does not lessen because she wears her soul on her skin, and her heart on her sleeve, and she cries every night reminiscing every harsh words you throw at her.
Dear mortal men, I cannot stress this enough.
Her value does not lessen just because you think she is not valuable.
We agree on nothing, and we disagree on almost everything. Isn’t love supposed to be magical? Hearts and bear hugs, and sweet movie dates, kisses that never ends, being on cloud nine, and being up late on night? Yet with you I feel like I’m a soldier, always on a battleground, trying to defend and protect myself, and salvage whatever ‘me’ is still in me.
Tell me, when did our love become a war?
I sometimes wonder if we are each other’s unfinished business in this life. And if we die right at this moment, will our soul rest in peace knowing that we have accomplished what we came here for? Or will this be one of those lives where we pass up the chance to collide, to be more than an almost, to be together, and to intertwine our souls into one?
“On next life, love,” he said.
And I cannot help but wonder if that’s a lie that he’s been telling me from life to life.