Thursday, 22 November 2012

'You will fall in love with train rides... & nowhere seems like home anymore.'

Browsing Facebook one Tuesday early evening and I come across this beautiful piece of writing. When accidentally stumbling across something, your mind either reads once, overviews, and moves on to the next new and wonderful thing. However, there are the times when whatever you stumbled across seems to resonate somehow and it's still present in your thoughts a couple of days later. This is why I am sharing this poem. It was actually shared on Facebook by poet and model and friend of mine, Max Wallis. (thanks Max for the post!)
So, here it is..
It seems to be about the aspects of life that we encounter, unprepared for. The aspects that we either fall ace down at the hurdle or we embrace with arms wide open, wings out, and run with until we're flying through the clouds with our feet off the ground.The uncertainties and the beautiful life that no one can prepare us for..

Here’s What Our Parents Never Taught Us
by Shinji Moon

You will stay up on your rooftop until sunlight peels away the husk of the moon,

chainsmoking cigarettes and reading Baudelaire, and
you will learn that you only ever want to fall in love with someone
who will stay up to watch the sun rise with you.

You will fall in love with train rides, and sooner or later you will

realize that nowhere seems like home anymore.

A woman will kiss you and you’ll think her lips are two petals
rubbing against your mouth.

You will not tell anyone that you liked it.
It’s okay.
It is beautiful to love humans in a world where love is a metaphor for lust.

You can leave if you want, with only your skin as a carry-on.

All you need is a twenty in your pocket and a bus ticket.
All you need is someone on the other end of the map, thinking about the supple
curves of your body, to guide you to a home that stretches out for miles
and miles on end.

You will lie to everyone you love.
They will love you anyways.

One day you’ll wake up and realize that you are too big for your own skin.

Don’t be afraid.

Your body is a house where the shutters blow in and out
against the windowpane.

You are a hurricane-prone area.
The glass will break through often.

But it’s okay. I promise.

a stranger once told you that the breeze
here is something worth writing poems about

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