Away from her is when you feel her the most.
You do not know how this is true, but when we are confused, the only thing left to do is find a way to understand.
So you looked for her; in drainpipes, in places that shined too brightly from the insides, in quiet dinners, in all the street corners that smelled like the flowers sitting on her front porch, and in the end, you feel so much smaller compared to how heavy the world has always been, even from it's beginning.
How could anyone grow while living on a place that does not realize how vital change is?
From the moment you came to being, from the moment you experienced so much light and hands and whispers and beauty for the first time that all you could do was cry as hard as possible, the wind has been pushing against your feet, trying to sing in all the places that cannot hear.
We see the still surface of a lake, or the deep **** of the ocean, and we know it is ok to jump in, and we know we can not be in it forever, and I believe you to be my favorite body of water.
We know that all the things that had a beginning, no matter their importance, no matter their size, nor their texture, all have an ending.
If there was no ending, life would have nothing else to offer.
I am writing this to you with my Mother's favorite pen, I hope you can feel the gentleness in everything you read from now on.
The world is a constant apology, when we tried to learn about our nature, we confused giving and trusting, and we never realized it. A year later I'm learning about true forgiveness, the type that doesn't ask for anything, the type you had when you were still a child.
You were singing to me and I was peeling apples and I realized that the only thing we really end up missing the most is ourselves.

sometimes i wonder
how many people
I’ve talked to for the last time.

sometimes I wonder
how many people
I’ve hurt and how many
I have yet to hurt.

sometimes I wonder
how many times I’ve passed
the person I’ll marry.

sometimes I wonder
which of the people I love
will die first.

sometimes I wonder
when I’ll die
and if that will finally
make me happy.

It was the year of my 14th birthday, when I first found that the word “go” had an entirely new meaning.
When I was young, “go” meant to run
go meant to run through the fields until your legs brought you to your own knees
go meant to strive for what you loved, and whatever you loved.

when I was fourteen, go remained as to run,
but to run away.
go meant to leave, with no living desire to
return.
go was synonymously my father’s clenched fists against the kitchen work surface
whilst my mother stood in her flesh and blood.

when i was 7,
i made love potions in my garden with flowers and water.
love was to fanatically involved with something.
love was to feed fuel to the fire,
that would light the way
love was life,
and life was love.

when I turned sixteen,
I went back out into that garden, and made my very own love potion
sticks and stones, which depicted the naivety of the words which supposedly would never hurt but made me feel more than even a
hurricane could.
Mud to represent the lost flowers from the light you took from within.
Love meant nothing more than the heartbreak that snuck up to stab you before Cupid could even hit you.
Love became the tears that my pillow felt on nights when I couldn’t hold in the flood.
Love represented the scrapes and grazes that my own hands gave me.

Unfamiliar words, like “sad, weak, loss and collateral" became friends, the friends that I hoped I would never make.

On my fourteenth birthday, I learnt of a new meaning for hold.
To hold, meant for me
only safety
and the earth to stop turning for just a moment, to give you
the chance to stand back up.
But on my fourteenth birthday,
to hold meant to hold captive,
as you grasped me in your vice
until my words couldn't be spoken,
and my heart screamed so ******* loudly
yet so quietly that the deaf could hear.

I'm approaching my seventeenth birthday,
and i'm scared to discover
what's next.

you ripped my heart
out of my chest and swallowed
it whole on a day where the
sun shone brightly; despite the
clouds hanging over
my head, there's still
a sunburn where you
used to

touch me.