What cruel affection binds the soul to fate
that grief, too, finds a way to persevere;
What measure holds the heart against the tide?
Find some sweetness in what we must bear.
My tongue can spend afternoons inventing
eternity, and give its hours away;
Fetishizing freedom, love, and all their tempting
delights - is desire enough to make them stay?
Same desire that spills like passion through my skin.
And present oneself as a whole imagination
alongside liquid hope that gathers from within
a thousand selves awaiting incarnation.
I know what it is like drowning in dreams
and call the undertow by “homesickness”;
betraying the place that taught you how to
become anyone at all - a forbidden lovesickness.
And to all the selves I've been, who’ve carried me through;
There's pleasure in knowing that I will inherit heaven, too.