i.

If I could, I would tie promises around
each and every one of your fingertips, so that
the next time you scale the side of a mountain,
and begin to feel your grip slowly melting away
from between the cracks of the earth, as gravity
nudges you to take the long way down,

you would remember that there are hands
waiting to catch you if you do take that fall,
and realize that the strongest ropes are those
with kerns wreathed in the heartstrings of first love,
and a mantle webbed in the colors of daybreak
and the hopes carried by new tomorrows.

ii.

If I could, I would write love letters
across your arms, so that the next time
you feel as if the world is taking so much
more than you could give, and your hands
have nothing left to hold but pieces crumbled
under the weight of pain and frustration,

you would see the words carefully pulled out
one by one from the splintered chest of a girl
who once held you in her arms, and remember
that someone’s heart still beats to the syllables
of your name, and that the ink never dries out
as long as the writer never stops writing.

iii.

If I could, I would tuck metaphors
behind your ears, so that the next time
you try to swallow your sorrows, and end up
locking yourself away in a lonely silence
trapped with the words you want to say
and deprived of those you need to hear,

you would slowly make out the tides of life
crashing against the shore in cadence with
the ebb and flow of ‘I’m okay’ and ‘I’m not’,
and allow your burning reality to be painted over by
the full spectrum of love and loss, give and take —
finding beauty even in the fault in our stars.

iv.

If I could, I would wrap your heart in a blanket
woven with raw poetry and tender lullabies,
so that the next time you come home late
from a long day at work, and collapse on a mattress
as cold as the words ‘good’ and ‘night’ gone stale
after being left to dry on the empty side of the bed,

you would drift into a dream sweeter
than laughter and stardust drizzled all over
our fondest memories, and wake up to the sunlight
spilling meaning back into ‘good’ and ‘morning’,
as you start the day taking in all the warmth
of being loved and of always being loved.