Why Do I Love You?


I do not love you for the words you say,
even when you say them in that special way.
I do not love you for the things you do,
the little things that would melt a girl’s heart to goo.

I do not love you for the clothes you wear,
nor for how much the ladies jealously stare.
I do not love you, I do not.
If that is to love, then on thee I do not dot.

For words shall lay forgotten in the folds of human nature,
Acts shall remain undone in the comfort of all that’s routine and mediocre,
The clothes on your back will be eaten through by the moth.
Will I then stop loving you when they all come to their inevitable death?  

But because I love you, I will listen to the words you speak,
I will appreciate all you will do.

I will love you in your hideous shorts and I will love you in your sharpest suit. 
I will love you in the summer,
I will love you through the winter,
I will love you as I laugh
I will love you as I cry.
I will love you when I  feel like I  love you, and when I feel like I don’t.
I will love you when you make me happy and when you break my heart.

Why? Why do I love you?
Because I am the moon to your sun; you make me more than a rock in the sky.

Inspired by Paulo Neruda’s I do not love you except because I love you.


Words of Life

I could write a beautiful story
I could write a moving poem,
I could give you my life story,
Lay my life out on a blank page, but it will be nothing but scum.

I could give you a reason to follow my writing,
I could give you what you want to read, but it wont be what you truly need.

I could give you fairy-tales ,
I could give you bone-chilling thrillers.,
I could give you down to earth drama,
I could give you rib-cracking comedy and we could all go home and call it a day.

I could make you laugh, I could make you cry.
I could write to expose, I could write to hide.
I could write about you, I could write about me.

But I don’t want to.
It will fade away. All of it. Then my life’s mission will have been for nothing. My talent will have been hidden in the ground and when my Master returns, I shall give it back to Him, and He shall call me a foolish servant.

I could write about all the things that tickle my fancy. I could write about everything in the whole wide world, but if I don’t talk about God, it will all be vanity!

If I don’t tell you that someone loves you, in spite of all your faults, in spite of the fact that you scoff at His name, in spite of the fact that you refuse His calling and chose instead to live for yourselves, then to what purpose would my gift be?   

Being a Christian is not just going to church on Sunday, on Easter and on Christmas. Being a Christian is living life wholly and completely for God. It’s giving up your will for God’s will. It’s a sacrifice. But not an empty one.

The word ‘ Sacrifice’ comes with imagery of barbaric acts done by cults but all it means is giving up one thing for something else.

It’s not easy! And its not supposed to be easy. But one thing’s for sure; it’s worth it.

All I can ask you to do is to evaluate what exactly you live for. Yourself? For the high? To please someone? To be loved?
Its never going to be enough.
Only God can satisfy.
The choice is yours. 

Sealed Lips, Dry Eyes

Some words come easy, some don’t. The most important barely make their way out.
Those that have the power to bring us to our knees, we hold closest, lest anyone know how we truly feel. We have gotten so good at lying, we don’t realize that at some point, we ourselves  began believing it. But no matter how much you believe it, a lie is still a lie.

Sometimes it’s not what is said, but what is left unstated. The ambiguity we leave to linger in the air.
Its hesitation before giving a reply that barely skirts the truth.

Sometimes pain characterizes every waking moment until you can’t remember what ‘normal’ feels like.

Sometimes, under the cloak of darkness, away from caring eyes,  we let ourselves go. We stop running and let the tears catch up. Not that they were that far behind.

Sometimes, not all the time, we wish we could have them back. If only for a moment.  Just to hold them. To tell them we love them. To tell them how much we miss them.
Only that sometimes, ‘sometimes’ is every single stitch in the fabric of time.

Hope Against Hope

The moon tonight… so big, so round and bright! I easily forget that its just a rock stealing light. I know its illegal to be a romantic these days, but I can’t deny that staring up at this big luminous rock against the dark night sky, I can’t help but think.

I can’t help but think of the possibility that you, wherever you are, may be looking up at this very second and staring at the very same moon that I am looking at. And to tell you the truth, the thought brings no peace to mind. Instead, there are so many questions! For instance, what side of the world are you on?
Are you a romantic or a cynic ( or a weird combination of the two, which is what I am)?
Have we ever met or is the moon as close as it gets?
Are you ever going to read this post?

Or am I just kidding myself?
Have I bought into a commercial conspiracy that created the ‘One’? The one everyone is looking for? The one everyone is trying to be?
I hate how everyone is trying to say the ‘right’ thing at the ‘right’ time. It’s downright irritating!! I get torn between bursting into laughter and sitting them down for a lesson on ‘How to get the girl’.

I don’t want Mr. Right. I don’t even want Mr. Right Now. All I want is Mr. Right For Me. You’d be surprised how hard he is to come by.

I am foolish enough to hope that someday ( you know, hopefully before I die), you and I could find our way towards each other.  And you would use the cheesily unforgivable “where have you been my whole life?”line, and caught up in the moment, I would sacrificially set aside my qualms about clichés and say,”Right here; waiting for you.”