This simple, complicated life.

why am i so romantic?

- One day I asked myself,

" why are you so romantic?"

and i sat pondering for hours.

the night eloped and day reigned the skies

I forgot my 'silly' question 

and moved on.

- I liked to write.

i would go to my favorite park everyday,

sit on a bench

and write.

write for myself,

my lovers,

and my dear moon.

- I loved flowers too.

I would pluck flowers whenever i saw one;

on my way home,

on a random street i somehow ended up on 

or from my terrarium.

they lived eternally in my books

thereafter.

- My great grandmother hand knit a sweater for my grandmother,

which she gave to me on my 17th birthday

and I wear it everywhere i go,

be it the hot blazing summer,

the raspy rain

or the icy winter. 

- I was 10 when i read my first book,

it was about a teenage girl who started writing a diary.

It inspired me to pick up a pen

and write,

write my first ever diary entry.

- I own more than 10 of my journals;

all of my teenage years

faded into ink and paper

neatly kept on my bookshelf,

closed forever.

-I suddenly wondered,

" why am i so romantic?"

"why am i so chiasmatic?"

"so in love all the time?"

"what is it in love that i love so much?"

I seemed to have an answer this time;

vulnerability.

Love is vulnerable,

love is paitence,

love is noticing the little things

and keeping them in your memories,

holding onto it tighter every growing second.

Love is within me,

love is within everything;

Love beats within you,

every second of every day,

love keeps you alive

love keeps you wake 

and love,

allows you to love.

So everything i am,

i am made of love,

from my skin to my bone,

from my heart to my hope,

everything i am,

i am love

and love is me.