The rocky vessel
I’ve stood on
My whole life

Still leaves me swaying—
Though I’ve since stepped
Onto land.

I’ll love you from here,
While you go about your day.
You may not want this—
And really, that’s okay.

I hope you find the love you deserve,
One that never makes you feel anxious,
A love you don’t have to earn.

I hope they come healed,
With no mess to clean.
I hope it’s better
Than even you’ve dreamed.

I hope they take one look at you
And know they can’t be mean.

I’ll love you from here
And hope sometimes you feel me—
Because it was all real,
And I’ll never forget the feeling.

I was in it, then I wasn’t.
Days flew by, dragging as they passed.
Now, I’ll never get that time back.

At sixteen, I wished on stars for this age.
Now, I’d trade the world just to rewind.
Funny—how I lived for the future,
And now the past knots me ******* blind.

Rewriting days that came and went,
Haunted by words I never said.
I try to face forward, but my neck won’t budge—
Staring at my failures instead.

I’ve tried to live in the present,
Tried to make it feel like home.
But one foot’s anxiously in the future,
The other mourns the past all alone.

The past calls for my soul and my bones,
Every time I sneak back, it drags me down,
Reliving moments that leave my future more dull.

Everyone that cares is here in the now,
But I never stay for long—
I'm always time-jumping,
My fixation on past failures dragging me along.

The time-traveling woman—
Trying to perfect love,
never accepting what is,
Always trying to fix what was.

Sitting like a stone,
Why have we grown?
The moon’s following you,
On the street, walking alone.

To the girls who grew up too fast,
now women who cling to hopes of magic,
I'd like to propose a toast and raise a glass-
the reality we escape from is tragic.

Whether your vision is a knight or prince,
or even a jester at times,
I want you to know I feel less alone,
drinking tea and reading your rhymes.

To the ones who whisper to stars at night,
who still make wishes when clocks strike eleven- eleven,
we may not have fairytales etched in gold,
but we scribble our own versions of heaven.

To the ones who carry too much weight,
and still find time to dream,
here’s to healing in fragments and poems,
and patching our hearts at the seams.