It attacked like wind on a motionless night,
holding parts of me hostage.  In the process of trying to discover if there was such thing as a human cocoon in which I could cultivate my full potential without the judging eyes of everyone else; I held myself hostage.  A gun with no bullets, just a mind filled with wavering neurons and a man full of help, hidden behind the four doors of a two thousand and five red Xterra, license plate; “h0me”
     A single year, made up of three hundred sixty five days, twelve months, five hundred twenty five thousand, nine hundred twenty six seconds and four seasons.  A single week made up of five business days, seven all together.  Four week nights, six all together, yet, each night, I slept in a bed made from everything fractured, even the truth.  And when I awoke each morning, I had the audacity to ask why my bones ached.  I guess I just figured they ached due to everything that happens under the hours of the sun.  The five hour shifts, the constant nagging, no no no, it must be because I’m sixteen and my body is young and able to endure this and that but I am only sixteen and my body shouldn’t have to.  Could it be because I am a walking contradiction, with a wavelength acting as a slinky, constantly switching direction, changing nature, re-defying the future again and again.  
     The sun  taught me that finding ourselves is so easy that we often over think it and cause our own minds to mistake its thinking’s for someone else’s.  But the moon taught me that there is an intimacy that occurs only when one is forced to examine their own body, an intimidating confidence one experiences when taking the most basic form of art and building upon it.  The capacity of time and effects of trauma taught me that even though we are alive and breathing, we do not always have the ability to cry for help, to breath.  There was a point in time when I was completely sure that in order to become more involved in your life, I’d have to end my own and believe me, I was willing.  I was blind to looking forward, I was blinded by beauty but even then, I had the ability to blink.  Blind, deaf and dumb;  We have the ability to blink.  One small motion, binding us all together, eyelash by eyelash.  When we are born, they all gather around us, watching for that blink to show them we are alive.  When we die, they all gather around waiting for the occurring of blinking to stop before pulling a white sheet over our faces and printing our names in the local paper but, under my name I want printed the thought of how deeply I will always feel for you.  I will always want you from now until the end.  But, I can’t have you, actually, nobody can.  You cannot be bought nor sold but you can be loved and my god, I have so much love to give, so much that sometimes I fall short of knowing how to show you.  I don’t always know how to get my hands to remove the only ***** inside of me that keeps my body functioning and give it to you.  Finding only that I cannot physically give you my heart because without it, my hands wouldn’t be able to function, they wouldn’t be able to pick up, hold or give and I know you wouldn’t take it yourself.  
     Finding only that I cannot give you my heart because when I finally built up enough courage to cut it out of my own chest, I found that I hadn’t had a heart.  I found that you had taken it from me a long time ago but, never once did you break it or let it get dusty.  Instead, you held it inside of your chest, real close to your own heart.  
     At last, I understood “why”
I understood that even when the whole world told you what you couldn’t be or when your own body rejected you, when your eyes refused to see you in any other light but the darkest, you still stood tall.  I finally understood why your love is like no other, it is because you have two hearts.  You have two hearts, one stolen and one bound, two hearts that have no choice but to feel the hurt and sorrow of this cold world, two hearts which give you the strength to let yourself be torn in two because you’ve not yet grown into your own skin but our hearts have grown together.  You have enough wonder to let yourself be whole by starting over, by letting go of whatever it is you are holding onto and letting your hands hang empty at your sides until you one day find something worth squeezing the life out of and when you think you’ve found that something, place it right in front of yourself and no matter if your mind is telling you to procrastinate or how much your heart is bursting at the seems with mixed emotion, let your hands go and pull me closer, letting the welcoming embrace of comfort cure the fear of being lost.  
     You have two hearts;  One to love and one to heal.  You have two hands and just like that, you rested one hand upon the back of my neck, I nuzzled my lips into your chin and that night we slept in a bed made from clean linen and newly reborn hearts.  We slept in a bed made of water, you acted as the sand acts towards the ocean, you are a life jacket to the innocent child, you are an  inspiration to the weakest of all beings;  You are Love.  
     I covered up that night with the idea of “being” and woke up “yours”
-S. Mia
July 9, 2014