a dire tale of someone who tries to keep silent
because strangers continue to shove
insolent thoughts down her throat;
a tragic story of someone who bleeds words
for a lost, but never forgotten, love;
a wretched memoir of someone who searches for
love and beauty about and within herself,
only to be shackled by society’s ideals.
There’s rarely a day when your heart doesn’t ache
for him, for yourself, and for unaccomplished wishes.
You gave your all, but it seemed it wasn’t enough still.
But it was never about giving your all.
It was not about it being not enough.
It was not about sharing pieces of you
that you used to keep hidden in your closet.
It was about trying.
It was about taking a chance.
You are always enough, my dear.
You have universes inside you,
and maybe you burn those you touch from time to time
and maybe you wreck things every now and then,
and maybe you leave stains everywhere,
and maybe you bring some darkness to places you go.
So maybe you’re a walking disaster,
but I’m telling you this as a friend,
you are one of the greatest kind I have ever encountered.
Your words leave burn marks on my heart
because of how deeply I can connect with them.
Your wreckage has a habit of finding home
in sequestered corners of me,
piecing together with my own wreckage.
Wherever your lost love may be,
he will find ink stains of your love
and may he realize that your darkness
was a shining beacon in his eclipse.
So maybe tragedy is synonymous with
destruction, unhappiness, and catastrophe.
But my dearest,
I think you need to know that sometimes,
beautiful surprises can bloom from tragic seeds.”