after a long time

i finally had the courage to

delete the links to your favorite

songs on my Bookmarks

because my own

heartbeat sounds a lot better

to me now.

do you still sing,

write songs, lose yourself

while at it?

me, i remember singing a lot

when you left,

in and out the shower,

everywhere else,

sometimes with a muffled voice

and terrible lyrics and

memories of you admiring me,

honestly believing that this

way i could find myself again.

i don’t now, though.

i don’t need to anymore.

but i hum music and

i hum loud–i do it for myself.

by voice has become

louder over time, or maybe i

was just too busy letting you hold

me tight in the throat

that i forgot that i could speak

with such volume.

do you still sing,

write songs, lose yourself

while at it?

what new have you discovered

when you walked

out the door?

was it ever worth it?

you met me in a place where the

gates were barely open and nobody

was ever welcome.

a year ago, you had me whole

in the palm of your hands.

there i was beating,

all solid and determined and hope-

driven–all because you made

me. a year later, although in many

pieces, you still had me in the

palm of your hands. there i was still

beating, no longer all solid, yes–

i was invisible like gas,

untamable like liquid, but i was okay,

because i still mattered.

now i’ve lost track of the ago’s and

the later’s, but you still have

me in the palm of your hands.

here i am beating, still for you and

you alone.

i crumble almost every minute,

but i am okay. although broken, i feel

whole because i love you this

much. and although you met me in a

place where the gates were barely

open and nobody was ever welcome,

i was brave, because i was

in your hands, and i’ve never felt

that safe before.

In this story,

I don’t get my fingers bleeding

while trying to sew the waves together

just so you could have something

firm to walk on when the

shore is nothing but sand and

footprints of those who left you.

In this story,

I think of my pain as well.

I think about how I need gentleness

just as much as you do and I

think about how I need to quench my

own thirst just as lovingly as how

I help you quench your own.

In this story,

I’m not the glass of water you take.

In this story,

I’m selfishly selfless.

I don’t just stand still and wave you

goodbye but instead I hop on the

boat with you because it’s exactly what

I’ve always wanted to do and

because you are my anchor and I want

to sail away with you.

In this story,

you let me hug the wind that you are.

In this story,


it’s all happening.