Greatly, I hope for
the life that I lead
to matter to those who
do not know me.

I wish for the hour when
I no longer wonder where
my feet will land, and
if people will see the prints
that my boots left

because they all already

know how unforgettable

each step is.

We long for the year
when our name is the object
of lust
to the passersby of
of other days, other
forgotten months and years.

Never again sitting in a desk,
longing that tomorrow will
always end for
us, for we are immortal
to day jobs and
night clubs, and the idea
of minimum wage.

The sun does not rise with us,
rather sets for the feeling
that we hold of being alive
with each passing hand hold
of dear friends.

I wish for all to remember that
we are the whole pieces of
tomorrow more, and that we
blinked away our smiling yesterdays
to find out that tomorrow
is sitting in the creases
of our eyes.

Never again let them see
how we cracked just to walk
the streets that others paved.
We tripped over the holes in their
skin, so open and freeing.

I hope for them too see
the wait we endured in order
to get to a place
that is not growing in
mortality, but rather in virtue.

We are the ones who wish
for everything to listen.
We are the ones who are
granted the idea of change,
and we will forever make it
happen.