To the you I will never see,

Here I am sitting trying to make sense. Unable to fathom the world, unwilling to accept; how is it possible that I am grieving the loss of a soul I have never met? We have been waiting for you, J. Our excitement buzzing in the air, spilling past our lips, decorated in laughter, song, and words of love. We were waiting to see you, love. As the days turned into weeks, our joy bubbled over. We were counting down the days we could finally hold you in our arms, take your little hand and hold it tight, never letting go. We were counting down the moments when you would finally light up our days with your presence. We were waiting to experience all your firsts with you. We were waiting to shower you with all the love you deserve.

My dear, J, we were waiting for you. We were waiting to see if you would be as strong as your father, love as tenderly as your mother, and be the light of hope in our days. Love, you are a gift.

I know Heaven gained another angel today, J. Perhaps God didn’t want to let go of His precious one, so He decided to call you back home early. Perhaps you were too pure for this world, J. You were too lovely to be marred and tainted by this broken world. My dear, J, you have never met me, but know that I love you. I love you with the kind of love that I never knew existed. I love you, I love you, I love you. I will see you soon at Home, angel.

Love always,

Forever your A.

I fell in love
with you
the same way
I fell in love
with words:
slow
unsuspecting
unyielding.

Last night I woke up
to cold sheets
on your side of the bed

I realized
I may never love someone
the way that
I love you
and that is okay,

that is okay,

that

is

okay.

We had the kind of love
that poets write about
you and I

Years ago on that winter day
I gave you a part of my heart
I walked away with what remained of it

Till our paths decide to intertwine
once more
I will love you
from a distance

Speak love
onto your skin
Breathe life
into your bones

There are galaxies
within you
waiting
to unfold

Break open
your light

The first time I ever looked into your eyes, and I mean really looked, I saw a future. I fell into a pool of baby blues, singing sweet tunes of tomorrow, while I drank up the seemingly eternal summer reflected in your eyes. They spoke of promises of forever, lives intertwined underneath the sun, our happily ever after.

When you looked into my eyes, and I mean really looked, you got lost in your version of forever. Swirls of dark chocolate enticing you to come closer, taste, see, feel a world you had never before ventured. You told me you loved them, and I yours. While I sank deeper into your blues, you fell for my dark browns. Mine spoke of promises of eternity: growing old together, cozy and safe in our happily ever after.

Tell me, did you see a future, too? I saw my summer, and you saw your fall. Maybe, just maybe, for a second in our versions of forever, we found our missing pieces.

Summer went away as fast as he came. Fall was fleeting in her beauty and existence. Winter settled soon after: long and harsh in its nature. Summer lost his glimmer. Fall lost her spark. Winter came to drown them both in heavy, unrelenting blankets of ice. Where did our forever go? Did it only last till the seasons changed? Perhaps we were both wrong.

The blues that once shone turned to ice. The dark chocolate that once told stories of warmth turned to dust. Tell me now, how was it possible that whenever I wept, I shed tears of blue? It never made sense to me how fall could rain in blue.

It’s funny how years later, the very last time I looked into your eyes, and I mean really looked – my favorite color, my favorite place to get lost, once upon a time my forever summer – all I could see were fragments of our past, broken forever.

To be a woman of the sun means to have a smile that ceases to fade, eyes that shine even in the darkest nights, and a heart that burns with passion. Unapologetic and unashamed in existence. I have given myself permission to be her. Go ahead. Wear that confidence like second skin.

Truly, what a beautiful thing it is to finally realize you have always been enough.

Love, be at rest.
When was the last time you said that to yourself?

Tell me now, what if I were your kaleidoscope?
Tell me I am
beautiful in my own ruins
mesmerizing in my chaos
captivating in my volatility

Tell me now, if I were your kaleidoscope
would you rattle me
break my walls
fill it with new colors and shapes
would you make me see
the beauty that lies in disarray?

Shake me up
handle me with care
I will explode into a vivid world of colors
show you things you have never imagined
sights to admire
wonders to experience
an entire galaxy to venture

Tell me now, if I were your kaleidoscope
would you be able to handle me?

The waves do not seek
permission from the shore
to crash against it
over
over
and
over again.

One thing is for certain.
I will not apologize
for how many times I
redirect
reinvent
readjust
myself in order to grow.

A flower seeks
Neither permission
nor forgiveness
for the way it blooms,
and so shall I be.

I shall seek
no permission where I can
blossom
break open
reveal my light
all in my own time.

Revel in my light.
Revel in my strength.
I shall no longer hide

I suppose
my brain is playing tricks
constantly replaying scenes of years past
through the foggy lenses of memory.

It was in the start of winter that you first asked me what my favorite color was. I remember drinking a smoothie so cold that my tongue became numb. My cheeks were hurting, protesting the work I had put it through from smiling so wide. I can’t remember who was the first to pose the question. All I can recall was my heart leaping out of its cage, warmth spreading down to my fingertips when you said “blue” with a hint of a smile on your face.

Hostage
to my own consciousness
witness
to a romance long gone.

We were walking aimlessly on a particularly cold day. You turned to me, and I to you. I looked into your eyes and saw a gentleness I had never witnessed before. Love, I thought it was. I couldn’t help but smile at your soft gaze. You looked away as I saw color rising to your cheeks. I watched on as you sputtered, fumbled, fidgeted – as I wondered what on earth could have brought Samson down. Eventually you told me you had wanted to kiss me, and that was when I knew I was your Delilah. Winter had never felt so cozy.

I wonder
how much longer
shall I stay shackled
bound to the chains
ghosts of our past selves
playing our youth.

Do you remember the first time we exchanged those three words? I do. We were ensconced in each other’s embrace. Taking cover from the bitter coldness of the rainy day; warm and cozy in our safe haven. It took me back to the one time you had asked me “Do you think there are other couples like us? Ones who just enjoy each other?” I no longer remember what I said, but your question seems to be forever etched in my mind. That day I looked into your eyes again, and thought that blue was indeed my favorite color as well. Did I ever tell you that? What the stories never revealed was how Delilah fell for Samson, too.

Humans are fickle
aren’t we?
Seasons change, time flies
for a brief moment
I forgot
that people do, too.

The way you tentatively wrapped your arms around me told me stories you could have never even started. The way I curled away, into, away, and into you again. Back and forth, tossing and turning; never making up my mind. The way your fingertips just barely grazed the small of my back. The way you gingerly pulled me closer; brought my hand to your lips like old times. So many words left unsaid, but the silence between us was thick and deafening. You turned to me, and I to you. I looked into your eyes and saw desire, grief, and acceptance all at the same time. I wonder what you saw in mine through your red-rimmed blues. I wondered out loud how life had twisted and turned. You kept your silence, and in that I found my answer. I shed tears of our color that night. In between kisses and embrace, knowing they would be our last, apologies were thrown haphazardly into the wind. It was a warm night, but tell me why I still felt cold.

People grow
old
apart
out of each other.
I know we did the right thing.
You had to find your way,
and I the same.
We had to lose
each other in order to gain
that’s what I kept saying.

It was in the middle of a summer night that you asked me again what my favorite color was. I remember looking into your eyes, fidgeting with my shirt of the same hue. I looked at you and whispered, “blue.” You told me to answer truthfully. I said I did. Perhaps on some level, we both knew why you did not want to accept my answer.

Perhaps to convince yourself
maybe even me, too
that we have run our course.