Searching in the Sea

Writing in the hope of finding myself -Y.L.

[searchinginthesea]

I write you letters
 because it feels slightly 
more real
 than the pixels I see 
on my screen 
at 4am. 

For at least
 something solid 
is going 
from me 
to you 

Instead of
 unstable sound waves
 stealing bits and pieces of 
my words, 

I put down 
my longing for you 
in ink,
 heart and words
 in sync.

YL | Letters

[searchinginthesea]

It’s rather silly,
 but you might have gotten me 
to start thinking about 
forever
 again. 

 We all shrug and say,
 “I don’t believe in forever”,
 but the truth is,
 a tiny part of us
 always wants, 
always needs 
 forever. 

It’s rather silly,
 but I don’t think I’d mind
 wherever whatever,
 as long as 
that whoever 
is you - 
and maybe,
 just maybe, 
that’s a part of 
forever.

Y.L. | Forever

[searchinginthesea]

Other girls blush like the hint of peachy pink faintly painted into the sunset sky. I don’t when I see you. But that’s because I feel so sure. You see, raindrops don’t fall into ocean feeling weird. Raindrops make ripples, then dive deep into the blue bliss.

Y.L. | Blue Bliss

[searchinginthesea]

The cicada told me it’s about time for her to go I said but summer’s still young and we just met not long ago She said next time we meet she’d be a firefly Because cicadas no longer sing after they’re gone yet fireflies still glow, never really gone you know?

Y.L. | Cicada

[searchinginthesea]

You said 
 you’ve almost forgotten 
 how it’s like to be hugged. 

I hugged you tighter then, 
because
 you should know, 
true hugs 
press onto your skin, 
fall through your flesh,
 and sink into your bones.

Y.L. | True Hugs 1st.

[searchinginthesea]

You were my dearest,
 I showed you my barest,
 not realising you’re careless, 
not sure if you're reckless,
 or just completely heartless.

 Now you are the merest,
 who lost one of the rarest,
 true that I’m not flawless,
 but for you I can be fearless, 
I could have loved you endless.

Y.L. | Priceless

[searchinginthesea]

I never quite 
trusted you 
with my secrets.

 I make 11:11 wishes,
 you’d call me superstitious,
 to me each is precious,
 I used them all on you. 

I do believe in long distance, 
all it takes is a settled heart,
 but then again
 you were fleeting, 
right from the very start. 

I hate your arrogance, 
although I did fall
 for your confidence,
 your contradictions,
 constant confusions. 

I always needed you,
 you said you had no clue, 
well you simply forgot to look,
 the little notes of blue 
in that book you never even flipped through.

Y.L. | Secrets

[searchinginthesea]

I like you best 
when you are asleep.

 I guess it’s 
the only time
 I don’t feel intimidated.

 I could make a wild guess of
 your dreams
 without you 
outwitting me.

 I could
 feel safe knowing that
 at least for the time being
 you are here,
 and for now
 you are mine.

 I could
 imagine you as a baby
 because you look so soft, 
like there are
n't heavy thoughts
 dragging you,
 or us down. 

I like you best when you are asleep, 

but that’s 
probably why
 I don’t like you
 at all.

Y.L. | Asleep


[searchinginthesea]

I used to 
go through
 photos
 of myself,
 to recall 
my thoughts 
at that very moment.
 
The day I was travelling.
 I wasn’t facing
 the camera. 
Windows opened, hair flowing, 
breeze blowing, 
freedom breathing.
 
 The day you were away.
 I wasn’t looking at
 the camera.
 Eyes closed,
 feathers floating, 
lips pouting,
 joy sweating.
 
 The day after we broke up.
 I was staring into 
the camera.
 Arms linked,
 teeth showing,
 smile shining, 
my heart breaking.
 
 I no longer 
go through
 photos of myself, 
but photos
 of things I see, 
for grinning faces 
can be so deceiving, 
but
 birds 
or clouds
 or dandelions 
don’t tell lies.

Y.L. | Photos

[searchinginthesea]

Kill the imagination.

 

 He is nothing

 
more than fiction.

 
Someone you made up,

 
a vague notion.


 

 
To him you are nothing


 but a second option.

 To you

 
he is everything,

 
your one decision.

 

 

Your love 
is intuition.


 His feelings,

 
sold out 

 intermission.

 

 

Do not be

 
his temporary

 
transition.


 He is causing


 mere destruction.



 

 Kill the imagination.


 Restore your soul


 from this distortion.

Y.L. | Kill the Imagination

[searchinginthesea]

Honest Confessions on Letting Go | Kevin Kantor

Honest confessions on falling in and out of love with a confused 20-something semi-closeted gay man or I can usually tell in the first fifteen minutes if something’s gonna work out for the long haul so why’d I ever bother or a beginner’s guide to crying publicly at parties over a completely self-fabricated history of something that only ever sort of was or how to let go.

One. Last Halloween, Britney Malenda’s dressed up as Dora the Explorer and got so drunk that she stood on a chair and shouted, “How many shots has Dora had? Ocho! Dora tiene ocho shots!” Five minutes later you were making out with drunk Dora in the middle of the living room and in that moment for some reason I knew you had to be mine.

Two. I totally watched Django Unchained without you over winter break even though I promised you I wouldn’t and then pretended to be watching it for the first time on our date. That was the only time that I ever lied to you which for me is a personal best.

Three. I have never found you sexier than when you talk about German fimmakers, struggled to ice skate, or tell me that I am wrong.

Four. I have reoccurring dreams about deep cleaning your apartment.

Five. The first time that you told me I cannot stay the night because your roommate might come home and see me, I should have left you. Not out of selfishness, or anger, but because when you begin to rearrange your vocabulary for someone else, replacing words like unhealthy with compromise, you will begin to forget your own name.

Six. You called me baby like flicking on a light switch, something quick and easy that you knew you could do to brighten up the room. But I am sick of sleeping with the lights on because you were afraid of the monster in your closet and I was afraid that it had already climbed into bed with us or that I had been the monster all along.

Seven. I told everyone how bad the sex was–because it was.

Eight. I have thought about you during sex with other people.

Nine. I’ve never wanted someone to hurt and be happy so badly.

Ten. I told you I loved you, last resort. I told you I loved you, like a bomb shelter, something to hide in after the fallout, but we would always be hungrier than our rations would allow.

Eleven. How do you tell someone that they taught you how to look at a seed and see a flower? You are blooming in another man’s garden and I feel like I’m the only one who got his hands dirty. When he bites into your roots, he will taste my rainwater. When he strips you naked, he will pause between each article of clothing, stop and say how beautiful.

Twelve. I’m sorry I have not yet forgotten how to find you beautiful.

Thirteen. I’m trying.

Fourteen. For Valentine’s Day you got me an eggplant. I don’t really remember the significance only that you covered the entire thing with silver sharpie so you could write little messages in black which wouldn’t show up in the purple when you could have just written the messages in silver. When you gifted it with me, I didn’t even realize what it was because, well, eggplants are purple.

You covered up everything to try to be with me. And I no longer knew what I was.

[searchinginthesea]

For My Little Cousins | Namkyu Oh “Most of the people you meet for the first time will butcher your prime-cut Korean barbecue of a first name into the scraps of junk they shove into hotdog casing.”  “Remember that just cos your parents speak with an accent doesn’t mean they think with one.”  “Remember there is more than one way to love these eyes, this 3am hair, and this golden skin”.

[searchinginthesea]

It’s on gloomy days like this
 I daydream the most.


 
 I dream of 
having 
 someone

 to spend the

 greyest of days with me.


 
 He would be my sun,
 
not too blinding,

 staring into my eyes,
 
his glow
 
just about right.
 
 

He would be my sun,

 not too blazing,

 holding me,
 
his warmth
 just about right.
 
 

He would be my sun,

 not too blatant,
 
but always there for me,
 
his love

 just about right.


Y.L. | Gloomy Daydream

[searchinginthesea]

Some seek the 

 
extremes;
 I look at the
 
In-betweens. 

 

 What is there between


 Hide and Seek,

 
is there chance to take a peek. 

 



What is there between
 

Black and White, 


is there any guiding light.

 

 

What is there between


 Lost and Found, 
 

is her voice the only sound. 



 
What is there between 


You and Me,
 

tell me on a count of three.

 

 

What is there between
 

Love and Hate,
 

is it us or is it fate.

 

 

What is there between
 

Give and Take,
 

is it all a grand mistake. 

 



What is there between
 

Life and Death,
 

can you see through the crystal meth.

 

 

What is there between 


Good and Bad, 


aren’t we all a little mad.

Y.L. | In-Betweens

[searchinginthesea]

Each word 
a heartbeat a pulse 
a blink 
a breath 
a spell 
I love you. 

Each word 
a stab 
a dose 
a cut
 a roar 
a curse 
I hate you. 

And
 Each word 
a needle 
a thread 
a pull
 a tuck 
a stitch 
Sewing back together 

a hope.

Y.L. | Each Word

[searchinginthesea]

Don’t come too close.

 I am scared, 
or should I say I am scarred.

 I have told you 
exactly 
where my wounds are.
 
Don’t come too close. Catch 
my tears 
from afar,
 
Save them
 in a jar,

 Watch them 
turn 
into stars. 

Y.L. | Don’t Come Too Close

[searchinginthesea]

Aren’t we all afraid
 of saying things we want to say.
 “Hey.”

 “You have a beautiful face.”

 “I no longer pray.”

 “Can you please stay.”

 “Stop judging me by how much I weigh.”

 “I didn’t mean to push you away.” “I can’t bear living another day.” “I’m keeping the baby and she’s coming in May.”

 Or in your case,

 “Daddy, I’m gay.”

 And all I want to say
 is
 
we are all afraid.
 But there are things we’ve got to say.
 Plus
 Darling, on my shoulder you can lay. So,
 go,
 even though you’re afraid,
 and say the things you need to say.

Y.L. | Aren’t We all Afraid
 To my sister & a friend