Wandering-writer-poet - Wanderer.writer.poet

Love and despair are drawn from the same well.

I cannot always tell which is the poison,

And which is the cure.

— y.c.

I do not know how to go on 

With you, 

And I do not know how to go on 

Without you. 

This is our liminal space, our

Handcarved pocket of eternity. 

Always here and always leaving and maybe, 

in a hundred years or a few seconds, 

we will find our way out of this trap. 

.

—y.c.

They say I’m too young to be sad

and to smart to stay so quiet

but

Who made me this way?

Trust me,

It wasn’t me

— Yushan C.

I am rediscovering how to love

The way I used to when I was five. Before Love

Was swept under the rug and 

Freedom became the only prize. 

Fear runs rampant, dominates—Panic is seeds sown by a 

         careless farmer—

But here, in this moment, without distraction, 

        without fear, 

I am rediscovering what it means to love despite 

       the flaws we hold. 

Here in this moment, 

I am redefining who I choose to be.

If one thing must come from this living, 

barring death, 

let it be the choice to love again, 

despite Love’s faults in the past. 

.

—in the space between here and then (y.c.)

We make gods out of sinners and altars

Out of gutters. We bow, 

Heads down in silent reverence,

To fools who beat back the nonbelievers with

violent and wrath and the pious

Call it righteous.

The gutters birth no good saviours; these

streets 

Vanquish purity the way Heracles vanquished

the lion and Perseus vanquished the

serpent but they had gods on their side 

And we have only demons.

—modern sins equate salvation (y.c.)

Tell me,

When you look into his eyes,

do you see storms brewing

like the ones that tore your home to shreds?

When you hear his voice,

do you hear the rumble of thunder

deep and unyielding

accompanied by that flash of smirk-lightning?

Child,

he was not made

to be handled by soft hands

and dewy eyes

He was not made for gentle hearts

and forgiving minds

He was made to

level cities

decimate countries

raze the world to the ground

— Yushan C.

I found a drawer of letters the other day.

All of them addressed to me

All of them an

apology.

They went back

three months when

we only been together for

two

Did you know,

even then,

that you loved me?

And did you know,

even then,

that we wouldn’t make it?

The letters say y e s .

I wish they’d said n o

instead.

— Yushan C.