If we say goodbye
I will write you a poem
I am a poet,
that is the way of things.

but
you are lucky
if I write you a poem that says
hello

because to admit
that something happened
is nothing

but

to admit there might be something
that isn't yet, but could be
hanging in the air

is everything

Those involuntary thoughts of hurting yourself,
to cut yourself,
to tear your body to pieces.
To cry without restraint.
To scream so hard your voice breaks.
To break into chunks of fat and mold,
colliding onto the floor.
To dissolve in the ocean,
To self-combust;
To be born again and whole.

It's the days when you don’t cry,
But you don’t smile either.

It’s the days when you’re quieter than usual,
And people notice.

It’s the days when you aren’t quite thinking about anything.

But if someone asked you what was wrong,
You wouldn’t know where to start.

Why do people hate the rain?

Why do people
               h   a   t   e
                         anything?

Why expel that effort
When instead
You could just let it roll
off your back
over your head
into your lungs?

but wait--
          that is called
                    d   r   o   w   n   i   n   g

“Paris
Is always a good idea”
                                                                  But not always a practical one
Listening to the rain
Is always a good idea
                                               But what about when the sun is shining?
Walking
And watching the world turn
Is always a good idea
                                                                                            But what about
                                                                      When your bones are heavy
                                                                                           And your limbs
                                                                         Too weak to hold you up?
To sleep
To rest
Perchance to dream
Is always a good idea
                                                                                                    But what if
                                                                    There is just too much to do?
                                                                          Or you close your eyelids
                                                                   And find yourself confronted
                                                                                                      With only
                                                                        The interior of your mind?

Light
Is always a good thing.

Color
Rainbow, grayscale, monochrome
Is always a good thing.

Life
Life lived
(If not always loved)
Is always a good thing.

Joy
                                                                                                and if not joy
Hope
                                                                                            and if not hope
Calm
                                                                                             and if not calm
Peace
                                                                                           and if not peace
Breath.

Breathe.

Just breathe.

I did not let go in a shower
butterfly wings and
golden sundrops
Not in a cloud
where the rattling of the descent
sent soft rustles and
shivers rippled through the
child watching
Wide eyed
bright mind
purest confetti
for the party of one
                                                                                         (a coming of age)

no,
i let go
little
and late
                                                                                                   (and alone)