I will respect you.
You did it
you climbed out of the hole
you once called home
and you flew.
Fly, my love,
you are free
to soar.

Everything in life is a process
It’s more about letting go and learning to stay
There is no control
Only cycles and adaptation
Here’s the question:
Do trees cry when their leaves fall in autumn?
They mix into the ground
a blessing to the soil
a party for some passing child
Even the tree understands
that not everything is meant to stay
But from what goes away
a new beginning is born in its place

he keeps pushing me.
telling me
to take a chance.
have an interview
with his ops,
who would love me,
by the way.

and since i’m leaving,
why not now,
especially,
that him and the company
are definitely my thing.

it’s my decision, he said.

i hate that he’s right.
i hate it so much.
and i hate him
for asking me
what’s the hold-up.

what a joke.

the hold-up.

it’s you.
i’m wasting my energy
thinking about this.

it’s you, holding me back.
it’s the thought of us
being at the same place,
in the same room
for longer
than ten seconds,
holding me back.

it’s my heart,
my mind at last,
every living cell
in my body
holding me back,
fighting fantasies,
thoughts
that carelessly run
through my head
as i play out what happens.
it’s my instinct of fear
holding me back.

i don’t want
near your fire again.
hand myself over
on a silver platter,
and say,
‘do whatever you can.
my very core is
in your hands’.

you should know better
than ask
what’s holding me back.
i’m fighting my feelings
with everything i have.

go, and get yourself burned
like i did,
when you have the chance.

i had to touch you.
no reason —
just the pull of knowing
twenty-six days
is all we have left.

i plan
to press my memory
into your skin
every day,
so you can carry
the echo of us
through the ache
of my touch,
even after you vanish
and leave me behind
with no one
to guard my heart.