A Simple Challenge (Part One)

{one of my first manifestos…as I was typing this out…I am actually shocked/not shocked I wrote this before I was 20…therapy, anyone?} Xo.

I don’t want to write about love.

Not about mine. Not about someone else’s.

I want to write about you.

Who you are and what I mean to you.

I did meet you. Once.

In the yellow taxi.

I knew from the second you laid eyes on me…I impacted your life.

I have that effect on people.

I make my rounds.





We never made it to the latter.

I don’t think you would have been able to handle it.

That town was yours, however.

So colorful. So bright.

Too many children on bridges.

On rocks, on rivers.

I’ll never know how these houses looked so strange. So loud.

I picked one out.

The smallest one.

I despise…complication.

Simplicity arouses.

I’ll wait.

For you.

The bell boy opens the door.

He’s not so bad.

Mental note.

It shouldn’t be this easy, but I’ll rip that apart later.

Logistics make me vomit and I don’t need my fingers for that.

Or your countertop.

I’m not keen on adding to the list, but exceptions are always fun.

The white and red shower me, keeping me dry.

Let’s take a walk.

Embracing nature just happens to be one of my past times. So is writing with fountain pens. You hold my hand like you mean it. I hope you do because I need it sometimes. As we’re walking and strolling, I notice your stare is misty and full of nuance. Brown eyes are dominant and dominate me. The gray, blue ambiance makes me curious, but I don’t know what about. I want to know more about you and how you love me because I know you do already. I need the challenge. The simple challenge.

I say: “You look strong.” You say: “I am.” I say: “Fuck you.” You say: “Love me.”

I like looking at you…like I do the grass.

So many blades…

Photo by: @christianchavez // Model: Me! Age: 31 // Chicago, IL

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