Patience is the softest form of love
I did not require fixing
Asking only that you do no damage
Here in the rot and rust
I plant my own gardens
And decorate my own soul
Making it my own
Making it my home
You are cigarette butts,
And nights spent hunched over the sink.
You are journals bursting at the seams,
And long playlists.
You are fingernails bitten down until they bleed,
And trauma I never came to understand
You are regrets buried in the closet,
And I hope you find your peace.
A poem of thankfulness
That you are gone
And have stayed gone
When you like someone for what they represent perhaps they’re better left as an idea.
Some people destroy the things they touch
Just to prove they can break
Art is our savior
Revealing which lessons lie
Where pain resides
Turning salt to sugar.