To say I’ve lost control is to assume
I had some to begin with.
But you were the turbulent rushing tide
and I’m just the shore you leave and then return to.
I’ve taken a lot of things that weren’t mine
and been given a lot of things I don’t deserve.
You happened to be both.
And I might never be happy,
but at least I’m getting by.
I wish you would do the same.

Tonight I let go.
I let go.
Oh God, I let go.
I just never knew I could.
But I won’t let it haunt me any longer.
You’ve spent enough time inside this head.
I refuse to be brought down
by what you expected me to be.
And I refuse to let the man I’ve been
hold back the man I’m supposed to be.
I’m not collecting any pieces,
and I’m not filling any holes,
because I’ve been here all along
and now I’ve been set free.
Now I see what it’s like
to let love burst past all the dams,
and how it feels to flood my veins
instead of all the fear I had.
Tonight I let go,
so that these aching hands can grasp
and this surging heart can love.
I let go
to make space for so much more.

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.

I know you said to not let it destroy me,
but you were far too late.
I don’t want to get better.
I don’t want to get better.
I don’t want to get better.
But I can.
I know I can.
Because I can choose.
I can choose to love when it hurts,
when it stings,
when it kills me.
I can choose to feel it all,
even though I’ve buried it beneath
the dirt of muddy memories
and worn out regrets.
I can choose to change the words
that try to claw their way out of holes
I’ve dug for the people I’ve hurt.
I can’t choose that it was you,
I could never choose that it was you.
But I can choose to be okay,
even though I’m not.

Deep breath in.
Wait.
Listen to the floorboards moving gently in their slumber.
Focus on the slowly spinning ceiling fan,
as it matches the hum of the insects outside.
I know your hands are shaking for reasons
other than the cold room you’re in.
Concentrate on them.
Each finger counts the things that are
beautiful in you, and you are a radiant polydactyl.
No matter how it feels right now,
I promise you that you’re not alone.
Even the sun sent moonlight to grace you while it’s sleeping.
You will be okay.
Please wait.
I know how far you’ve come, and how far you have left to go.
You will get there. Tonight will not break you.
Because you are enough.
You are the abandoned lot outside my house,
with vegetation bursting through rusted fences.
Pushing up flowers through cracks in concrete,
reaching for vibrant sunlight.
You might be easily overlooked sometimes
but you sustain life even in the darkest places.
You are enough.
I don’t have things all figured out, and I know you don’t either.
That’s okay.
Just repeat after me:
“I am enough."
Deep breath out.