I keep grabbing at everything like they’re the stars
But it’s nothing magical, it’s all but a dark night
A lonely sky, a ******* hole
I don’t want to look at the light of everyone’s life and wonder
Why is my everything so dark

I want to soak up light,
Light from all the cracks I’ve tried to mend
With men who didn’t love me
And wine, so much wine
Salty tears that almost sting the wounds I’ve let stay open
The wounds that are long gone lives that stay alive inside me
I should have let them die, I could have
Instead of killing them, I let them live off my heart
Feeding off my broken love

I am not going to grab at a starless sky anymore
I am going to put every light I’ve ever needed up there
Like none of the men who didn’t love me or the wine that left stains ever could

But what is love if not loved
And how could I love
If I had never known what it felt like to be so much alone
Under the all back everything
I am the one who wants to be the light of my whole life
And I am the one who will love me through all the dark

I thought I found a way through the darkness
I thought that inside of the grief I was holding was a boat
In the the middle of the ocean
Setting out like it had never felt the cold, crisp, blue water below it’s body
And the boat would rise its sails like white flags in the night, all alone
Breathing hushed breaths
As to not wake the old beast swimming circles around its heart
But how foolish, how cowardly
To silence your own love
Love that could swallow a ship whole
That’s what I would tell her,
The floating boat
All alone in her ocean
Breath louder, next to the rising and setting sun
Find your space in this giant world
No matter how big your grief feels
You are not a sinking ship,
It is spiritual to get the boat out of the bottle
Breathe louder
Break free

I think about the way I love and how I put my love into you. I stared right into you - you were looking past me, into some great beyond.
I was building a home in you, while you stood with your back to me as you made us eggs and coffee. You kept your hand on my thigh as you quietly stirred cream into your porcelain mug, leaving me the thick and murky leftovers from your French press. Look but don’t touch, I wonder if you’d been told that as a child because you only looked me in the eyes if I was flat beneath the weight of you...feeling your touch all over me.

I think I forgot to mention that I’ve got a good spine because I forgot I even had one when I was with you. I still think about how it would feel with you here, in all my seasons. My curious hands would still hold onto you and I’d still find a reason to build something bigger, no matter how much better things could be. You could have found me at the edge of the water, wishing on skipping rocks like we did in February. But you didn’t look back when you packed up and left before the leaves turned gold.