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?
broken free, they floated away.
i threw my hands in the air and my head back and tried to catch the colors as they fell.
each time, i thought they would blow right to me,
drown me in their glory.
the music beat inside my ears,
but each time, i was wrong.
the wind blew them away and i can’t fight the air,
balanced on that platform
so blissfully floating
it didn’t matter.
because nothing hurt.
that is what i seek.
i was lying to myself
by no fault but my own.
we all do it,
so does that make it wrong?
lying about what?
you beg to know.
about the fact that this doesn’t hurt.
but i swallow and hold back anyway
because then i can tell myself it doesn’t.
this lie, it seems to be the only way to move forward.
i feel like a child,
holding a vase in my hand.
i want to drop it.
i would grin as it shattered.
but here’s the truth of the world,
one even children know:
you can not break things that do not exist.
and that my love, leaves me feeling nothing but the pain of emptiness
when it comes to what was between us.
tears, big and fat, blocking my vision
eyes cast down
so down one falls.
just one-if I let more out, I fear this broken soul will shatter.
here is my question: how do they do it?
if all the souls that are older than mine have felt half the pain I have-how do they still stand?
but yet I know: because amongst the pain there is often some sort of peace, a peace that comes with shedding what was
oh how right I was.
stopped at the light,
your back to mine, your hair waving in the wind.
I opened my mouth to call out one last goodbye-
and closed it again.
I no longer feel the need for dramatic goodbyes. this one did not hurt. right now-and then and the last time we left each other too-I only feel joy.
I was right then, ten months ago, on those Panamanian streets:
you can not say goodbye to those you are so rooted in. what you shared threads you together. it removes the fear from my viens.
so I pushed off the ground, my red toes bright, and let you walk away.
we will both be alright until we met again.
this, now I know.
when the words you say are lies,
and you know it as you say them,
who are you harming more?
yourself, for holding back,
or the world, for asking it to bare so much weight?