Loving Quietly

By Lennesha Prescilla. M

There's an ocean in your heart whose waves keep crashing your eyes. Sometimes they flood your cheeks weathering them from every mound of regret that pops across. The sun rises between your brows and the moon dimples your chin. Planetary winds circle your ears, while your palms caress black holes. You are a universe—housing constellations with lost addresses. While all this is still you, a big bang silently claps, the child in you twinkles fingers and discovers a new sky. You call the bang— love and the sky—the loved. Slowly you place your stars in that sky, you spread your dreams between its layers, tuck it with your cloud nine moments and send messenger birds over.

Your tears rain when the sky is dark shadowing it from your black and in a snap, you pretend to glow, arching down rainbows for the world to stay in awe of you two. But there's only a part of you the sky admires. It's the ocean where its reflection births. It goes on to find someone out there just after looking into your heart. Loving quietly needs you to own this turbulence, this warmth and be the universe you are left behind to be. So be the meadow, be the desert, treasuring the ocean always within your heart. For the bang happens just once. Its ripples are what run through you making you more of a source than a destination. The sky will want you, but not love you enough. Love quietly, love. Love quietly.

By Lennesha Prescilla. M