I would just give you all my words
if I could,
even if it meant
emptying my veins into your hands.
I could open up,
a thirsty river,
and thrash every syllable
my tongue knows
onto your chest.

Do you know
divinity?
Finding water under dirt,
looking at me,
and speaking "snow."
I am not soft, nor clean,
but I am gleaming white
to you.
Speaking "pearl"
strength and beauty,
in a depth of ocean
no one else dares to look.

Divine me towards something worthy,

being
something worthy.

but it wasn't just losing you

it was losing out on all the memories to-be
like your mother's fortieth birthday
your baby cousin's first day at school
your uncle's wedding *(i'd already picked out my clothes)

it meant missing you at my graduation
and you never seeing my little sister grow
never tasted the fresh morning brew my dad makes
or listening to my mom recite

losing you wasn't just losing you
it was losing everything around you
and in a way,
*it meant losing myself too.

looking from a distance
i can almost love myself

she keeps telling people to come and find her,
but she was never there in the first place.
she's always been gone
and she's just left the most useless part of her
behind because
people always told her that's what they liked most.
she's been sending you postcards in the form of the sun,
she's been writing you letters and signing with love.
she's so far away and
she's leaving a trace
but no one was ever looking for her in the first place.
they were looking for a home in an empty shell and
found a walk in closet that was just "good enough" and
gave her their laundry to hold until they found
newer clothes and moved away,
she's still holding them, pretending you stayed.
and to your dismay
she managed to leave
and still carries your baggage inside her shirt sleeves