With love

Poetry

the world is a beautiful place

all things are sad because they are temporary, in our eyes,

people have become buttered--bursting like a radish heated

too much in the oven. there is no political correctness in reference to the human

spirit

and we must learn to write not only when we are sad or destructive or bored of ourselves.

if capturing a glimpse of a kiss on a barefoot while the smell of balsamic wafts through the 

floorboards is all we can do-- i want to be here a thousand times longer.

if you must know, i don't think i've run out of words like i said.

you said the most important thing is not our work but our spirit. i want to hike

through the south of france to believe it.

and eat ice cream sandwiches with you ten thousand times over

because we are not only ourselves when we are in the dark, but where

our lampshades do not hide the glint of yellow any longer.

Elizabeth Hsieh