what a life it is
to live in love
with an ideal self.
to be in love with one
who doesn't exist,
not even in fiction,
only in the realm of your mind.
what a life it is
to look in the mirror
and feel your soul shatter
but when you look away,
you can pretend you are
the version of you that you see in your head.
I'm not the only one. I know it.
Biographers say that Sylvia Plath was in love with her dream self, encompassed in a strange egotistical fantasy.
I live in that same fantasy.
How do I make fantasy me
the real me?

Religion has always been shaky ground for me.
I believed in God
until I was 11
and he killed off my baby sister.
After that, I had no God.
When I was 13, I began to pray again
and wear that sacred cross
around my neck on a dainty chain.
When I was 15, I fell in love with you.
I stopped praying.
My cross was replaced by a silver heart pendant.
A symbol of your love.
I fell asleep waiting for a text
from you every night,
so many nights in a row that praying became so out of routine that I didn't even try it anymore.
Now, you've left.
I have no God, once more.
Faith is such a scary thing. It's like walking out onto a frozen lake without checking the thickness of the ice first.
Tragically, our ice was paper thin.
I've fallen into the deep, cold waters of heartbreak.
My heart is a block of ice now.
Amen.

the sky is gray and so are your eyes.
the rose you gave me is as red as the tip of your nose in the winter
and the blue ocean waves are the same color as the veins in your hands.
your eyes flicker like the flame of a candle when you're angry.
i remember how i felt when you first held my hand every time i put on a sweater fresh out of the dryer
or when i take the first sweet sip of my morning coffee.
i remember listening to the wayward beat of your heart as we snuggled
and the rain fell outside.
i see your face when i wring my hands and i
hear your voice in my dreams.
i see you in everything. i must be falling for you.
the thought of you leaving makes my stomach hit rock bottom.

you've got the voice of an angel
and your words are lyrics to the song of your heart.
you move smoothly like a melody
and you flow into my arms.
you are harmonic and smooth and melodic.
you are the music of my life.

You, my darling.
You've tried so hard to be soft, beautiful, quiet, slim, polite, perfect; a rose with no thorns.
Don't try to be something you're not.
My love, do not let the world chop off your thorns. Hang on to them. They are the difference between you and the wildflower next to you, and the orchid beside her. You are all different.
Don't cut off your thorns.
Love yourself.