exponentially more

more than just resentment,

i have exponentially more love.

like the inviting breeze sweeping you from an unfamiliar shadow

like the stability to stay & sway with changing wind

like the turquoise heights over terracotta hills of sand

like the way beige turns to gold, the storm hydrates desert kissed skin

a hazel gaze, like the unmentionable.

wearing my heart on blushed cheeks.

a depth i feel in colors, shapes & nostalgia’s movements.

not just a flippant infatuation scattered about by productions & scripts.

attention to detail

promptness in my bones for forgiveness,

an ability to overlook mistakes society indulges in.

more than resentment’s mirage waves as an attempt to replicate the past, i have exponentially more patience to yearn for the future, a confidence in what’s next.

for a brilliant mind to feel with

for an honorable heart to think with 

meeting me here, enthralled.

& over everything, to collaboratively share exponentially more love.

daytime

i want to write in the daytime again

late nights only foster my apprehension

each preface a sign of grief

restless, i’ll stay awake as they drift to sleep

i want to write in the daytime again

words to flow from the end of my suntanned hands

i want to run again 

into the arms my future 

not away from the past 

i want to be festive again 

to notice the cheerful noise that was once my anthem 

i need to sit in solitude

to find comfort in the silent sound of my own thoughts again

& when i do, it will be familiarly bright

even if the light is initially blinding, heavy eyes weren’t made for night vision

i’ve been writing in the daytime again. 

i know i’ve been delayed.

but as the sunlit hours grow longer, one last late night helps me realize darkness wasn’t meant to be mine.

sincerely yours

to the friends i’ve let down, 

i see you 

sometimes more vividly than i’d like to.

the parts that feel invisible, 

the pieces you wish actually were.

i go where your mind escapes to when you’ve stopped listening to the group conversation.

you zone out, i meet you there in the abyss.

i hear you 

the words forming, circling & posing questions you don’t even want us to answer.

i listen for the sigh of relief, deep breaths as remnants of a rough week. 

you can say what you mean & i can affirm you or say nothing. regardless, i’m listening. 

i understand the systems & cycles you subscribe to.

the ones you’ve traced back to your first heartbreaking moments, how they have methodically unraveled & been dismissed. 

you trust your perception of my wisdom & i admit, i’m honored you continuously invite me in. 

your emotions seem real to me & even for me to also take on. 

i won’t punish myself for paying attention. but i’ve been hypersensitive, convinced i need to be everything to everyone. i was also wounded, often wondering how i’m simultaneously entirely too much yet entirely not enough. i’ve been the heavy-hearted girl people look for to keep the moments light. my big, closed-eye smile.

i dread to ask, but now i need the attention. 

know that i’ve probably exhausted every resource before coming to the conclusion that asking is a possible option.

yet, when you offer without conditions, i finally experience being valued & known.

i have no answers, only questions.

now i need you come here with me & just as frequently as i will for you.

i’ve kept my distance to recharge, to learn the art of stepping back so that i can step back up. to be more hopeful than nervous, to be more open & honest. i won’t apologize for taking my time. but i will thank you for your patience, i hope you learned it from mine.

maybe we’re not avoiding each other, we’re just not accustomed to the etiquette of someone caring for themself first.

i’ll always want to come back, repaired. to see, hear & understand. to support you, cheering you on as you grow. & as i’ve grown, instead of being overwhelmed if i’m only remembered when needed, i will feel welcome. because whatever light it is that i have to share, it was this warmth which came to mind when you found yourself in a dark place.

sincerely yours, but first mine.

potential endings

what if we had better understandings of who we won’t have to protect our life from?

i don't want to keep living by beating them to the rejection punch.

can we just talk?

what if we agree?

what if we're both already cherishing this commitment?

what kind of damage would result in an embrace?

how about we kiss our way from a fear of intimacy with a side of settling.

to show up with enough courage to be one less indifferent person.

in our uncertainty, we have the opportunity to create whatever it is we want & need. 

So, when we consider potential endings can they be the thing that sets us free?

because before the ending, there's a beginning. 

a necessary releasing;

me, from the tight grip of someone who took my gentle patience for granted.

you, from their misunderstandings of your remaining true with sensitivity.

new, we allow ourselves to carry on in connection over confusion.

we grasp ahold of their locked in misrepresentation of love with enough strength to permanently take away their key.

so, even in our uncertainty,

can we recognize that history doesn’t have to repeat

we don’t have to stay stuck missing out

& when we consider potential endings, can we try before we quit?

capable

i could just avoid it, like i usually do. 

examining all these options & opportunities with the grand question: 

am i even capable?

would i recognize if it develops slowly?

would i feel if it hits abruptly?

& what about the ‘badass’ pact i made with myself to never let anyone hurt me like that again.

so, i’ll never let anyone in again?

but for some reason, i skimmed through the book you suggested, listened to the podcast you mentioned & your taste in music gives me the impression you even mean the sincere words you say. 

as you hinted that I could still run from someone like you, i wanted to reach out with every part of me open. because somehow your personal defenses have disarmed all of mine.

when i need it most, your generous character sits with me as a reassuring reminder to be still. to safely look back at merely a memory of what deceit is, a far-off place; nowhere near me or you.

i bet you're braver than you think you are. 

& i can tell you know i’m actually capable & even strong enough for the both of us too. but you’ll never expect me to be.

neither one of us ahead of the other, in our favorite spot, together. moving at the same pace hand in hand.

i could just avoid it, like i usually do.

but i think we may accidentally ‘fall’ in love.

yet, consciously stand right back up, with certainty. 

because we’ll choose each other entirely on purpose.

to 26

to honor the story i was never quite sure they would care to be a part of or even hear. from, 25  

you are brave

you shared words to back up the actions you couldn’t even believe you could do & the reverse 

you sought therapy

you invested

you sacrificed

you removed unnecessary apologies from your vocabulary

you strived to be a learner rather than a teacher

-

you also experienced depths of depression

you jumped to conclusions

you admitted (it was humbling)

your resentment was sometimes too close for comfort. but you let it happen.

because comfort is your tendency. except, this time you want to be heard & you want to be available to hear in return.

& for the first time, give yourself permission to be all of it but more than just this

to, your 26th year.

in my becoming

in my undoing, settling is less of an option,

waiting, less of a burden.

in my becoming, it turns out the piece that was missing was never you.

& i couldn’t tell where i went the first or thousandth time i lost myself.

but it was there i learned to shorten my answers. make explanations only relevant to you. cut off my own ideas. hush my voice just before anyone ever had the chance again.

the blue print of my life was once the architecture of insignificance i was confined to.

in undoing a go along to get along design, there are crumbling walls once built so high the people i loved scaled them tirelessly.

yet i’m becoming so much so, that even when you overlook me, the fortune you lost is something that will never be replaced.

the intricacy of we are undoing & we are becoming.

enveloped in a certain posture of forgiveness, 

taking back power we never agreed to give them to begin with.