as i peered into the darkness
it stared back at me

and in that moment,
i felt everything
and nothing of my apathy

in that moment,
i learned that the void
wasn’t empty.

it just echoed
around the absence
of what i missed the most.

can you imagine my surprise
when i yelled your name
and it replied back to me?

my darling, you are the enormity
of my universe.

you are my end
and my beginning

and everything else in between.

so come home to me, my love,
come home to me.

and darling,
i buried a entire lifetime in you.

all the what could have beens
and should have beens

and what was
and what could never be.

the entire story of you and me
read just like poetry.

it is beautiful and broken,
and both silent and spoken.

our story,
lived on the tip of our tongues
and then afterward,
haunted the hollows of our lungs.

our every kiss was a saving grace
and for every touch, we carved a wider space
between our beginning and the end.

my sweet, you taught me how to love again
in a wildly fierce and fragile way,
and i loved you even when you could not stay
and turned me away.

i loved you,
even though it destroyed my heart.

i know that we cannot go back to the start
and rewrite any part of our story,
and read it some other way
we can’t forestall the wreckage
or heal the wounds that still bleed.

all the ink to our story
has already been spilled,
and all the what might have been never will,

but darling,
to me,
there was an eternity in loving you,
filled with hopes and dreams anew.

i lived them all within the time i was given with you,
and though it goes against all reason and rhyme

i swear,
i buried a lifetime in you.
i buried my heart in you.

and oh, i'm sorry.
its all coming back again,
the sorrow
the hurting
the caving in

as if i was a monument
that still had a long way to fall,

as if i had not already
lost it all
to the fissures
that broke beneath my skin.

i am no longer the moss-lined ruin
where the sun still meets
the stone,

i am sharp, i am broken,
with dark bruised bones
that would definitely crumble
beneath the touch of your hand.

but i will still leave
a wound that bleeds you
right where you stand.

that is the price
of loving me.

to be haunted by the memory
of everything i used to be
and everything that i became
and will be.

not even the ghosts
dare to whisper my name
because of the way
it disturbs the hall.

there is a reason
the demons
are best left sleeping
beneath the walls.

but oh, i'm sorry,
it all comes back again,
the sorrow,
the hurting,
the caving in

as if i still had something
left to lose.

the ghosts,
my ghosts
bow their heads to you
as you slowly take your leave.

take one last look at me
before you go.

do not flinch as the shadows
fold me away from your view.

there is nothing left here
for me to turn back to,
and for you to return to.

i wrote this poem
before I even knew the words
that i wanted to convey to you

that is how beautiful
you are to me -

you give purpose
to fifteen letters,

you give reason
for broken lines,

you give hope
to this poet

that maybe one day
i can write you

in all the ways
you deserve.

and love you,
in all ways you
want and need.

darling,
if you ever come home to me,

your favorite meal
will be on the stove,

your tea will be cooling
on the counter

and the windows will be open
to let in the light
of a fading sunset.

when you come home,

your favorite blanket
will be freshly washed on the couch

there will be fire
sparking warmth across the tile

and the music that will play,
will soothe to your soul.

when you come home,

i will bring our cat to greet you
and a smile will startle across your face.

when you come home,

the world outside will be hushed just enough
to remind you that here is where you belong.

so i hope you come home to me,
someday,
one day.

my sunshine, if you are reading this,
i love you.

its the kind of love
that grows from kindness,

the love that lets you look
at another human being
and smile

my darling,
i am asking you how your day went
because i really do care
long enough to stay
and wait for your answer,

and i will listen
because i am here
to do just that.

i am asking how your heart is
because I know sometimes people
forget to check-in,

and i am offering you a shoulder
should you feel the need to cry,
or feel the need to lean on something
when the world gets tough.

i will wear my heart on my sleeve
so that you feel less alone
and see that i, too, have wounds of my own

and love,
i will always,
always,
make the time for you.

so come with me,
sit a while.
if you do not want to talk
about what hurts
we can talk in hopes.

it is high time the world
becomes less lonely,

so i am extending my hand
and reaching for you.

i love you,
i love you.

you can be anything
they say

as if in encouragement
or judgment,
sometimes i cannot tell,
sometimes i cannot decipher.

it is as if people forget
that being anything at all
is exhausting in itself.

that simply existing is not at all gentle
but a fight and a battle cry
and a call for hope
all in one.

i am sorry if my progress
is slow,
if my wounds take longer to heal.

i am, first and foremost,
just trying to learn
what it means to be me.

and maybe, just maybe,
for now
that is all i want to be

i want to explore myself
and finally,
be proud of my victories,

i want to carry myself home
to my skin

i want to belong again.