it feels now
after all this time
that sometimes endings are easy
and sometimes they are hard.
it feels now,
so differently than before.
that when they’re hard the time is wrong,
and one is leaving something behind they shouldn’t.
and when they’re easy, you’re meant to go,
despite the small bursts of pain.
I’ve just grown up
and where pain once was now stands reason.
I’ve forgotten how to put down roots
so pulling up doesn’t ache.
perhaps though, all the words are wrong.
and the truth belongs to the words scribbled in thick black ink:
when my bones became water two summers ago, I left pieces of my soul on the ground when I stood back up.
that’s why it doesn’t hurt,
where pain once claimed home.
who really knows?