We love, yet we do not feel.
We fall before we break.
This is called a lover's tragedy,
when you do not know what you can take.

I’m going to tell you to be silent, darling.
Strengthen your footfalls.
Dominate the halls.
But do not say a word—pick them out carefully.
Use them as weapons.


When you feel anger rise, clench your fists till you see the crescents on your palms.
Hold your chin up, and gaze back with a smile—and hold it long enough to break them, before they break you.
But when they hurt you even worse, and you can’t handle it—you tell them, and force them to acknowledge it.
Acknowledge it.
And hope that the tears don’t come, otherwise you’d have to wipe off that smile you worked so hard
To put on.


And I’m telling you this, darling, because beauty is found within your strength and your conviction.
You are a masterpiece—and this.
This is what control feels like.


To know when you can finally let go.

I clench my hands into fists, willing to the fear to go away.
I feel small, fallible, and vulnerable as I internally face my worries.
And I tell myself that this is not good.
That I shouldn't feel this way.
After all, this is a grocery store.

I was 10 hours away from your home.
10 hours away from being all alone.
10 hours since we've both been on the phone.
10 hours to know that we've been on our own.

Each distance lowers down that 10.
Like how we've always come closer back then.
Always pretending to know if when
we can always be together again.

And now, I'm 10 hours away from being there.
10 hours since I've been under your care.
10 hours of losing my same breath of air
10 hours of knowing this distance is not "where".