How do you stop writing about pain
and start writing about softness?
How do I stop talking about the way it hurt
when you hugged me so loosely?
Like if that's how you gripped me when my life depended on it, I'd go tumbling down?
How do I stop writing about emptiness?
About how, though there are millions of
stars in the sky, there are gaps in-between
all of them and sometimes the blackness
swallows me?
How do I start writing about how
comforted the sun makes me feel when it
wraps it's warm rays around my wrist
on days I hang my arm out the driver's
window?
How do I start writing about how big the
world is?
About how, if I wanted, I could pick up and move to anywhere on Earth?
About how colorful the world is?
From indigo skies
to infinite pallets of quizzical colors
that boggle my mind and keep me in
wonder?
About the greens of rainforests, and reds of
dirt, and oranges of canyons, and yellows
of light, and blues of seas, and purples of
mystery,
and how when you combine all of those colors, it paints hope in the blackness that
lingers in dark corners of me?

I guess it starts here.