Age of Aquarius.

You signed your name in invisible ink upon my stony, restless heart; where others failed to leave an impression, you left an eternal mark. I was intrigued by you from our first chance meeting, even though you loathed me from the very start. Now, I remain indebted to you, for illuminating my path through the dark.

If you weren’t here; what would I have done? If you weren’t near; who'd I have become? Without you, dear; my life is a gun. Without you, I fear, my sorrow would've won.

At eight years young, when Sam excitedly introduced our families, I tried to impress you with Street Fighter, but to my chagrin, you had no time for silly games. Soon, I'd find excuses to visit your home, to catch sight of the unicorn, but even then, you were too cool for me. While I engaged in foolishness, your wisdom still surpassed my child's play.

If you weren’t here; what would I have done? If you weren’t near; who'd I have become? Without you, dear; my life is a gun. Without you, I fear, my sorrow would've won.

Perhaps my pursuit of your friendship shrouded me in desperate shades, so I gave up, and invented lies, just to appease my bruised, infantile ego. I even tried to start a playground war, though your bicycle wheels were immune to my grenades. Even still, the truth remained, that your disinterest dealt the harshest blows.

If you weren’t here; what would I have done? If you weren’t near; who'd I have become? Without you, dear; my life is a gun. Without you, I fear, my sorrow would've won.

It wasn't until I grew some more, and fate reunited our airy spirits in fire.
Middle school solidified our bond,
and set the foundation for our lifelong alliance to transpire. We survived mutual losses hand in hand, and supported one another through life's many falls. Centuries from now, archaeologists will find, that you were painted on my ancient cavern walls, all along.

If you weren’t here; what would I have done? If you weren’t near; who'd I have become? Without you, dear; my life is a gun. Without you, I fear, my sorrow would've won.

To this day, I cannot pretend, there is anyone who has been a more genuine friend. You've outlasted all the rest, to come out on top; without you, my dear, I fear, I never would've grown at all. Through objectivity and tough love, you appeal to my understanding of myself and of the world. Gratitude pales in comparison, to all the ways you enrich my soul.

If you weren’t here; what would I have done? If you weren’t near; who'd I have become? Without you, dear; my life is a gun. Without you, I fear, my sorrow would've won.

Ultraviolet.

Paint without apologies on life's chaotic canvas, since there is no one else who can fulfill your purpose. Dance with the watercolour winds, just like the wolves did. Whose poison tongue convinced you 'solo' is synonymous with 'worthless'? 

Listen to that tiny voice within you, the same one that whispers softer than the stars. On the surface, all is calm and steady, but do not wake this resting jaguar. 

Poor are they whose pleasures depend on another's permission. When you already enchant audiences like the magician, why do you settle for being his assistant?

Let your art mirror the beauty of your smile, cut and paste each piece of you until you're perfect. Show them the strength in being an unmanned isle, let them wonder if their dependency issues are worth it. 

You are capable enough to conquer Gengis Khan or Alexander. While all these reds need blues just to become purple, you already entered this world vibrant and violet. Always remember that you were destined to be their commander, instead of following orders, like some complacent copilot.

Jewels.

When the bough breaks, they said my cradle would fall but I fell instead, head over heels in love. You reached out to me with an olive branch, and I grabbed your whole arm, why did you do this, why'd you have to lead me on? I said I'd be there for you, like the soil to your rose, but you chose to wilt when we could've grown. I've never had issues with accepting fault, still you ran away, like you were allergic to salt. Sodium chloride wrong of you to leave me alone, especially when my spirit refuses to accept that your hand I'll no longer hold. You were the only reason I remained, I was the sole serpent to ever be tamed. Such a gem, such a jewel—yet you expect me to abstain, from falling apart, like glue, you kept me sane. My apologies for losing my cool all those times I made you feel blue, bear with me, my dear—I forgot all I had to fear. A silent hill, a busy tone, your absence is felt, now I've learned my lesson, so I keep others at bay. With a single extended arm, I run away; watching you from afar, I wish this love would go astray. Believe me, my boo, this is not how I meant for it to end, as you hold the only key that could unlock my ill begotten end. Prematurely met although I know we'll meet again, I'm sorry I failed you, as you were once my only friend. Grin and bear it, grab a seat, even smile with your teeth; just as long as you will see, there's no future without me.

when the dams burst, we will patch them up with words

"Tell me again, where is it you stop and the succubus begins? Why is it that once we separated we both ceased to exist?" A vanishing act, in two parts.

Act One: My pitiful proposal right in the middle of study circle was the first arrow to pierce your unfeeling heart. A feat more noble than neon on the periodic table. And you? If you were an element, it would be gangrene, the way you suddenly appeared and immediately created a crime scene. A biohazard more toxic and lethal than Fukushima. You radiated light, and at first glance I was blinded. Now that each individual shard of shrapnel has been plucked from my silver eyes, I see that you were nothing but nuclear. Once a dream within a dream, until you decayed and became a fucking nightmare within another godforsaken nightmare. Like those matronly Russian nesting dolls, but instead made up of demons, until there was nothing left but desolation.

Act Two: What happened to the wide eyed hopeful freshman that I met handing out pamphlets to save the rainforest or feed the world or whatever cause you'd attached yourself to at the time to make your human form seem believable. That same kid with the thick accent from East L.A. who arrived on a full scholarship to help inner city sweethearts avoid the inevitable—getting initiated into the first gang whose leader fell in love with her. I should've known the damage was already done and that you were the greatest con artist to wield a pen as a weapon. You seduced lovesick idiots from all walks of student life. Who knew future doctors, lawyers, and politicians could all be so easily swayed. Either way, you were a lost Latina princess who made men feel like one of your Latin Kings.

What happened to our heroine who refused to be branded like the cattle that would never be found on her plate. She was skilled in every recipe from cookbooks of anarchy. Who knew sometimes even soldiers sold out and became the same sheep they swore up and down 'til kingdom come that they would never be. The very sheep who required shearing and saving from a slaveowner who would rather refer to himself as a shepherd.

Behind the scenes a heavier battle was brewing...a conflict that was as deep as canyons grand, that had way too many layers. Our waxen eyed protagonist met his Waterloo in a spicy Puerto Rican seductress. Together, they personified academia, every interaction either ended with evacuated lecture halls or underneath ramen-noodle-stained-thrift-store-bargain-basement sheets. Spectators sighed at the sight of these star-crossed young lovers like modern day Montagues and Capulets. Together, they were an unstoppable machine.

Lovestruck or love's fools? The line between their overlapping identities faded with each day. They put blood, sweat and every last teardrop into the resistance. A revolution like no other, they claimed, that was the brainchild of their brilliance. As they grew closer, their separate clumsy heartbeats merged into one single thunderous rhythm. Surely nothing could come between a love that was united in humanitarian efforts.

By the time graduation robes neared, and colours reappeared across campus, the string that bound these altruists had started to come undone. Consumed by consumerism, a worldly woman in designer threads stood in place of our former rebellious lioness. As she appeared to be a phoney, her subjects rightly labeled her a fraud. Soon, her expensive appearance was a liability to their cause.

One black Friday between thunderstorms was when this War of the Rhodes' came to a halt; she turned away in anger only to be struck by his left lightning bolt. Electrified, and hurt as we reach the final breaths of real love, as it often ends. Only fairy tales wrap in happiness, why else would they appeal to us heartbroken humans.

What about healing, like we planted trees? What of the hospitals, where we pulled smiles out of the broken and the weak? What about the prisons, the detention centres unjustly holding refugees? Where did we stray, where did the love go? When did our own silence need to be bought with violence? What about orphans, widows left to starve in the streets? Where did we go wrong, to get here today? What about love, sweet love that doesn't end up settling in court? When can we return to peace and harmony? Unless we turn back, we won't have a pretty planet to watch on TV. If Satan's greatest con was convincing us he doesn't exist, isn't it time for us to accept we got ourselves into this mess?