she tells me the rain always feels like tears, even on days when the sun breaks through the clouds
her skin, pale with thirst for the light, dusted by the
darkness of escaping into herself,
a bare lightbulb illuminating her skull, shaved and shorn by
razorblades of hope that dissolve into waterfalls of
never being the one they want
never being the one that can break the chains
never being the one
she thinks she should be,
self-medicating with the flood of sobs fermenting in her eyes
blinding her to all but the sharpness of her lonely bed.
my head throbs in time with my heart.
just hold on.
you are not as alone as it feels in these chambers of self-solitude and
breakfasts of self-doubt indicate.
please
stand outside at dawn and let the rose colored light baptize you into a new
love
for this life - fragile sparks running down veins with the abandon of children
neurons pulsing with joy at the feeling of sun-kissed lips and
lake-swept feet and that moment the thunder sounds like a summons
to dance in the rain.
just hold on, to these precious melodies in your hands
to these unbreakable bits of spirit embedded like diamond in your soul
to this gift you have, this incredible ability to smile
and laugh and
grasp my hands between your palms, to sing psalms of baby birds and
rivers at twilight
to stare at the stars and listen to music and scream with pride from the mountaintop of
all the amazement and creation that is you
just hold on.


for me.