I thought I would run out of words
when soft beams of light peaked past the horizon,
like the letters would sink down with the moon.
Because for years I’ve made the stars my ink
and the night sky my canvas.
I guess the sunlight just feels strange
when you’ve spent so much time in darkness.
But now it warms my frosted fingers,
pulsing liquid lava through my veins.
Sleepless nights becoming tired mornings.
But they are new.
And so am I.
I can write about hope,
even if I have so little left.
I can write about truth,
even though I lie right through my teeth.
I can write about peace,
even though I see none of it in me.
And I can write about love,
even though I haven’t the faintest clue
of what it could be.

You think you have to carry the past
like a sack of rocks weighing on your spine.
I’m here to tell you that you don’t.
Let me take them out,
one by one,
let them fall to the ground,
one by one,
and help you let
it
go.
And when you’re ready,
I’ll skip them across lakes and ponds with you
and watch them sink to the bottom,
where they belong.

You think you have to bruise yourself with hatred and sorrow
like a champion prizefighter.
I’m here to tell you that you don’t.
Put down your fists
and let the adrenaline
dissipate in your bloodstream.
Take a deep breath in, and let
it
out.
Learn to love yourself.
There’s no need to fight that any longer.

You think you have to always stand tall
like an impenetrable fortress.
I’m here to tell you that you don’t.
My darling, it is okay to let
me
in.
And it is okay to crumble a little bit.
Let ivy grow up your sides, if only
to remind you that life
is still possible within your hands.
And when you finally fall, I hope you realize
that you never were just a stronghold.
You are the sky,
the unreachable horizon,
and every beautiful thing in between.

I don’t know how to stomach those words.
They don’t fit anywhere in the cupboard
I made for the things people have told me to be.
It doesn’t feel okay.
But it feels okay.
And you say trying isn’t enough,
so as stubborn as I am, I will try harder.
Because even though my biggest pieces
are left in the past,
there is still enough of me here now.
I can write about other people besides her.
I can find new people to fill this hollow heart.
I will no longer apologize for the things I feel
and do not feel.
I will build something new
even though so much is still missing.

Some nights these words aren’t enough.
I want more than just memories of you.
Because no combination of letters
can resemble how soft your skin was
and how deep your eyes went
every night we tried to capture stars
in our drifting hearts.
Because open fields weren’t enough
to contain all the love you had to give
and no ocean could ever calm the
restlessness of our bones.
Late nights left us both in ruin,
I just hope you can forget now.
Sometimes these words just aren’t enough.
No matter how hard I try.