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Michael Indemaio Michael Indemaio

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Open Doors

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I have loved you for all of time, and that’s really the only thing I’ve ever known. I mean, really known. Something overwhelmed me the moment I first saw you, as if sunshine had slammed into me like a gust of wind, but still, I didn’t understand right away. There was no one particular moment when the love revealed itself, but it did reveal itself in moments, over and over. That beam of your beauty slamming into me again and again.

I’ll always remember this one time, waiting for you to arrive. I was content, comfortable… but still filled with anticipation. It wasn’t a special occasion and you hadn’t been away, you were just working and I wanted to see you. When the door finally swung open I wasn’t paying attention, you were already inside when I looked up. The music, in that instant, held its breath between songs. Then, all in unison, our eyes met and our smiles curled and the next song began. It was a beautiful song that someone else must have written about you, or at least about how I felt about you.

The piano keys tenderly spoke of the redemptive power of love, the closing wounds that go with opening hearts and how I was once shut tight until you arrived, unexpectedly, your beauty crashing into me, gently and with a force greater than I’d ever felt before you opened me. The strings meanwhile celebrated with a crescendo of joy the way each day of my life has built more and more miraculous on top of that first moment and ever since.

It may not seem like much, but to me it is one of the most remarkable moments of my life. Suddenly the door was open, and there you were, looking at me as if you loved me. Time stopped and my heart leapt and I knew then as I know now the only thing I have every really known, how I love you. How I have always loved you and always will, and how each little fragment of time within that timeless love is a miracle.

April 23, 2015 by Michael Indemaio.
  • April 23, 2015
  • Michael Indemaio
loveletter21

Love Letter #21

loveletter21

Maybe I've become too accustomed to this miracle. Maybe my poetry is too vague, too cushioned and quiet. Maybe I should say I love you just a little bit louder. Louder than thunder. Louder than the demons in Hell who must watch the wisdom of autumn love.

The leaves dance triumphantly in the crisp cool air and crunch beneath our feet, and I will hold you in my hoodie the way the soil holds the roots. Nothing is forever and yet nothing ever ends.

Don't be sad, everything has seasons and your laughter is the truth bursting through. Beauty bursts through, and the illusion can't contain it. Underneath it all reality is entirely laughter. It stretches out like oceans and soars to Earth like rain. It lives in the soil and the air and we breathe it in and become it.

Don't just be optimistic. Don't just think it will get better, know that it is. More than good, it is joy, this beautiful laughing universe and your eyes and the leaves. My love is different in every moment and I will never not love you.

Maybe I forget that this is a hard thing to learn and an easy thing to know. Take your time, but hear me out. I will try to say it loud:

Life is hard and it is easy. It is beautiful and cruel. And I love you. Because it is possible that you love me too, everything is perfect. I know that at the end of time, there will be laughter and nothing else. Or maybe everything else. At the end of death is more life, and at the end of love is more love.

For now the leaves are changing colors and I love you. The snow will come and then the spring, and there will be bursts of laughter and tears. Everything will change and I will love you. If you know nothing else, start there. 

October 19, 2014 by Michael Indemaio.
  • October 19, 2014
  • Michael Indemaio

Method and Mindset for an Aspiring Poet

1. Be stubborn in love.
2. Take in influence like a child runs in play.
3. Individuality, not individualism.
4. A charitable spirit makes everything grow.
5. You'll never know a flower if you're set on hating gardens.
6. Symbolism is the language of the sacred.
7. Poetic means an elegant approximation of the ineffable.
8. Shame is not poetic, neither is hatred.
9. Know which poets you love and why they're your favorite.
10. Your mind remembers more than you realize.
11. Write in your sleep.
12. You are never not a poet.
13. Sometimes don't write, but watch instead.
14. Never let someone or something else limit your poem; never choose safe over inspired.
15. The most beautiful draft is the best.
16. Poetry only shines if it's true.
17. Art is immeasurable and poetry is art and no matter the font size even this must be metaphor.
18. Everything has meaning if you want it to.
19. Your heart travels joyfully surrounded by a poet.
20. Don't aspire when you can be.

21. I love you already and have always and will.

May 10, 2014 by Michael Indemaio.
  • May 10, 2014
  • Michael Indemaio
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Michael Indemaio Michael Indemaio

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  • Michael Indemaio
    To give someone your heart and your trust is always an act of bravery.
    May 8, 2019, 10:42 PM
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    RT @cakes_mix: Ya know how you write something and put your heart into it and you show it to someone and they say "it's good" Lov… https://t.co/hnlqhw0rlZ
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    I fight for lost causes because they too have effects.
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