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The Fuel

Falling in love and writing it.

I fell in love with the cracks on the street, worn out and weathered over, yet critical to the ones who drove over it. One of them invited me to a long crevice towards a sidewalk, with a splotch of grass with five purple flowers at Five Points in Denver. The courage of the seeds to grow simmered inside my blood, after a day of grief from a dear friend's death. The purple flowers chose to grow where it landed, bearing the weather and finding its season for me to find it after a long day. I fell in love with it.


I fell in love with my own wounds. The swords of women who looked at my back to release their anguish as their stabs drips blood to the side of my lungs. They stabbed through the back bone and the heart, and wanted total annihilation of my life. I nurtured the wound, placing mexiplex bandages, wiping it with Betadine, and out of the wound, came out green mucuous as a sign of healing. When it dried, it stung painfully as I walked, making my stamina higher yet deeper through my soul. 


I fell in love with time. The yearning for change and the shortness or length of it, as I wait and wait for nothing in return. The sudden transformation from a second of stroke that paralyzed my dear father. I worked with it, calling for help, as I saw him dropped to the ground. Yet, God gave him time, and time with him I loved. I planned to care for him, every time and again, as time allows and with each moment, I shall cherish.


I fell in love with mulch. The sweltering heat toasted the cinnamon and anise tree barks that scents of a handsome British man. I gloved my hands and evened the mulch on the ground. It sweetened my senses and created a dreamy love story inside my mind.


I fell in love with the drop of rain on my nape three days ago. Under the heat of sunshine, I raked the ground, and the drop of water from the sky fell on the back of my neck and rolled down my spine. Fresh and sparkled, it created magic in the shape of water above my tanktop. 


I fell in love with writing. Even with a blank screen stared at me, it created a moment of trust that I would write and typed with a desire to tell it an honest moment.


I will keep falling in love every chance I get and writing it. Just write.

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