I’ve written this poem before but always through a window, never through an open door.

Love isn't always magic. But if I offered my body to the magician, if I told him to cut me in half so after that I could come to you whole and ask for you back would you listen for this dark alley love song? For the winter we heated our home from the steam off our own bodies?

We're boxed in and labeled before we're ever able to speak who we believe we are or who we dream we'll become.

But whatever However Whenever this ends I want you to know That right now I love you forever

Right now there’s a man on the street outside my door with outstretched hands full of heartbeats no one can hear. He has cheeks like torn sheet music every tear-broken crescendo falling on deaf ears. At his side there’s a boy with eyes like an anthem no one stands up for.

...And for every day you paint the war, take a week and paint the beauty, the color, the shape of the landscape you’re marching towards. Everyone knows what you’re against; show them what you’re for.

I don't believe we're hateful. I think mostly we're just asleep, but the math adds up the same.