A Letter To Every Girl

Donations

The idea of cancer always frightened me, and I was willing to give any body part I had to save another life.

Dylan, I would slice my arms and try my hardest to bleed in to you, if I could cut my immune system in half, I would. Mine isn't very strong, but I think it's stronger than yours. My immune system would tie into yours and your body with chemotherapy flowing through it and my white blood cells, nothing would be a murderer that day. I would slice deep into my bones and give you the fresh blood, anything to make you well. If I could write life back into you, I would've done it a long time ago and you would've been writing poems, and I don't think they'd be about me.

Daddy, when you found the lump in your breast, I didn't think much of it, but now if I could I'd cut the cancer from you like a bad piece of an apple so it doesn't rot the whole fruit. I'd stitch you up with a needle named "peace of mind" and string named "love" you'd never have to worry about the cancer spreading.

But I'm naïve to think this way, and I know this and dad, it's alright. I'm used to wishful thinking, and wishful believing.

I miss you both all too much, and my heart drops whenever I read your names, and this is me trying to save a wilted, dead flower and I hate that you can't reach the sunlight, life should've never plucked you up.

Dylan, my poetic prince. My everything. I still spend my nights crying over you, and 99 percent of the time I tear myself apart by reading your words, I want them gone but at the same time I don't. Your death is making me analyze every single word, and with each new meaning my heart earns another crack in it.

My nearly broken heart is yours, both of you.