the easiest and hardest thing
about falling in love
is being a writer

dear little me,

i know your tiny little heart
is overstrained

i know your tiny little hearts
tries to figure out ways and means
to hold yourself together

believe me
you'll survive
all the heartaches and all the panic attacks

you'll survive
feeling so different
and being afraid

dear little me
please stop tearing yourself down
it hurts to see you
hate your existence
it hurts still feeling
your hatred

i promise better days and thoughts are coming

dear little me
i know your tiny little heart
needs advice
but you are strong
i believe in you.

We cannot write silence.
The beats.
The pause.
The breath.
The way it aches
and persists

and begs that,

if only for a moment,

our consciousness is only a whisper.
our bodies,
our lips,
the air that passes through falling chests
and stillness.

A melody of emotion.
Sleeping in the quiet of a heartbeat skipped
a word lost to the wind.

The wickedness of reticence
Encapsulated in air and time.

The moment stretched too long.
Hesitation perpetuated in the grip of fingernails
pressed into palms.

We cannot write silence,
but we can try.

to find a way to immortalize emotion
to create space
in the ceaseless drone of words that speak and spin.

I cannot write silence. But I can write
tears and years
and the burn of long-stretched lies.

I can write goodbyes and hellos
And dozen ways to say
I love to hate you
Or
I hate to love you
and sometimes
I cannot tell the difference.
Silence.
The space I have upheld for myself.

I love to hate you
Heart.

I hate to love you too.

I cannot write silence.
But I know it.
and I have held it in my hand.

the clouds effortlessly part for the sun
so she can get a short glimpse
of the girl the moon keeps talking about