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Poem: You Shouldn't Relate To This Poem 

It's funny how beautiful we can be to each other when we meet, when we are new.

I look at you and see your light and possibility, the sweetness that's inside and think what a jewel.

To have found love is such treasure. And so we meet and mutually decide that we are so much fun together that we will meet again. And on and on until we are knowing each other. I will say I know you. And you will say you know me. And as we continue in our knowing, time will pass and I will know some things about you that are darker. I will bump into some edge, be isolated by a shadow.

I will still laugh with you and love you. And you will love me. And we will know each other more fully, but not ha-ha funny. I will know that that is how you are and that you will always be that way and that we will go so far but not farther and that in order to love you I have to sit here and wait. Like Godot waiting. Cuz I'm waiting for nothing. Cuz this is something that never changes and this is you and we said we love each other and now this is it.

I started dreaming alone. I am traveling somewhere. I am in Morocco. You're in bed. I speak Arabic, I'm taller. I'm eating insects cooked on the street in Thailand, my tongue burns from ancient peppers and you're crying because I never had dreams like this before and I tell you I didn't know these were my dreams and I didn't know the only dreams we were supposed to have need to have happened before we were 10.

You are getting older and I am still alive. I feel the muscles in my thighs as I stand and I know I am strong. I see across the room, into the other room and through the window outside to the tree as a cardinal lands on a branch. You say, "I'm tired. I'm going to bed." I could go to bed. I could give up. People can wish themselves dead.

You were my mirror when we met. I knew I was alive and beautiful because I could look into you, straight into and see you, all of you, forever. Our laughter was embarrassing. We were ridiculous. And then something changed. Me.

I think most humans are static and done. Maybe that makes me less human? But what of the humans that keep dreaming and traveling? I opened my shadows for you to see, I moved them, crossed them out. I let in the light and grew to be more, for you and for the stars.

Tonight, I let you go, release you to sleep. May you find dreams again or sleep soundly and rest.

Tonight, I fly to the moon.

  • A poem by Shutup Shelley.

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