I fall in the trap of lovesick lines,
ballads for my broken heart,
and dragging my world down into angsty darkness.
But I promise you I have more words for my life.
There’s that thrill of seeing a sunset sky in winter,
turning from the oppressive gray to that vibrant orange and pink,
warmth I didn’t expect to see in the cold.
There’s the nostalgia in eating a Chicago style hot dog on a summer’s day
at a picnic in the green grass that’s just right and
doesn’t stain my shorts or leave them damp.
There’s the peace felt the first day of wearing sweaters in the fall,
where my arms, exposed to the heat for too long
revel in wool covering every inch as I walk to my car with cocoa in hand.
There’s the hope fulfilled in hearing baby birds in springtime,
chirping in hunger in the birdhouse hanging by my window,
the first signs that life still exists in a world once frozen over.
There’s hope. Always. And so I promise with conviction,
there are more words for my life, because there is more to my life than you.