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kaleigh michelle Aug 2019
maybe we’ll heal the same way we broke. beautifully and all at once.
sun squares on the hardwood
the morning robins
and you.
just as the sun rises without fail
even when the world feels like it’s ending
like it couldn’t possibly still be filled
with light
one day, it’ll hurt less
it’ll feel more like a good memory
and less like
being stuck in a bad dream
and it’s impossible to understand why bad things happen
how they could possibly be turned into good
but you’ll doggy-ear pages
and write down notes in your phone
notes that look like prayers but sound like hope
and you’ll smile and smile and smile
and smile and smile and smile
because to ache is to have known love

and to love
is to live—
this is a custom poem written for a giveaway winner.
one day
it will be easy to breathe
my lungs will inhale flowers
and honey
it will be second nature
like riding a bicycle
like tying a shoe
like swallowing a pill
and i will hold on
tightly and
with shaking hands
until then
feeling very overwhelmed lately. trying to hold onto the hope that it will not always feel this way. i will find my peace.
i started seeing the stars brighter when you left. started seeing myself
brighter. before, all i could see was
y o u .
i could barely see myself. my soul was starving and my heart worn,
falling into bed every night without taking time to change the sheets.
i hate to admit it, but i think i forgot how to be myself once i had you.
maybe it was the timing, and maybe i was just divided—my feet in
two doorways, leaving one place and entering another. i was stuck
in the hallway with starch-white walls and no light. and i ignored
it because i could, because i had you to distract me. but now i can’t
avoid it. i look at my life now and see it as cold, hard clay, aching
for my hands to turn it into something beautiful, something with
meaning. everything is falling, and i’m surrounded by empty water,
but i feel like i’m being reborn. i forgot how to look at the world
through my rose-colored glasses; lost them in my mother’s house
and settled for grey. that isn’t me. maybe i was too crowded by
rosebushes smothering me from seeing any sort of sunlight, but now
the soil is clear and all i can do is let the sun touch me until i turn into
something just as beautiful alone.
from my book, 'please don't go before i get better'
read here:
you make so much sense
amidst the tangled vines of
learning and unlearning
please don’t go before i get better
from my book, 'please don't go before i get better'
read here:
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