Come Merge with Me

Come merge with me—

Evaporate my tears with the warmth of your kisses.

Come walk with me—

Caress my hand while we step on thorns and fiberglass.

Bring an eraser—

Delete the heavy black clouds I tend to draw on the sky with my charcoal.

Bring an umbrella—

We’ll hold on to it and laugh at thunderbolts,

Gleaming in an electric aura.

When the night falls,

When the red city lights dim the stars,

Close your eyes—

Listen to the silence around us,

To the energy that settles on a static lake,

And listen to my murmur—

Come merge with me…



to get hibiscus red

the artist eats the flower

—Raymond Roseliep

La Nuit Froide

Now that these nights are freezing cold, these feet are dead white, and these toenails are winter blue, I wish my loved one rested by my side. Thus, I’d be able to rub my little stiff limbs against his (to his visible yet amused annoyance), create a bit of comfortable warmth, and sleep with a subtle smile.

However, when the time comes, a few hours from now, I must go back to bed and sink into my usual lonely coldness. Then I will make my wish again.


He said all he needed to say in a language that sounds like nonsense in Spanish to those who don’t speak it. He said it, and his hands flew around a space that seemed the exact distance between his soul and mine. In the process, he pulled my heart a little closer.

All I know is I understood, even if the words weren’t clear. I understood, and I felt an immense necessity then: I had to learn that language that made it all so tender, even if the process meant saying goodbye for a while to the man who seemed to own those sounds.

Now that I’m finally identifying certain foreign noises as familiar words, as I’m able to answer a few questions, as my paintbrush tries hard to emulate drawings that have been long accepted as representations of ideas, I find —to my dreamy heart’s despair— that this language wasn’t created exclusively for two lovers from opposite sides of the planet. People actually learn it and use it for many more reasons than simply lulling a soul to sleep the sleep of dreams come true.

It has been difficult to assimilate the fact that my view on three sets of characters will never be close to reality. No matter how bitter I feel every time I hear sentences that sound like human reruns of colorful animated cartoons, there is nothing I can do to change the course of facts: I learned a language that more than one hundred twenty-eight million people speak day by day, a language that is synonymous with incredibly advanced technology, bizarre live drawings representing havoc, and an infinite horde of slanted eyes spread about four main islands that could as well be a completely different planet.

I’m too naïve if I think this demonic language of puzzles could ever mean to my side of the world exactly what it means to me: love.