I've written about love to point where sometimes I think it only exists in my head. At sixteen I thought he was the one. I would have bent over backwards and strung all my bones together for him. But he didn't want that kind of love. I punished myself so brutally for it that I took it all out of my body and placed it outside where the sun is. Nobody ever smells the sadness unless I tell them about it. All these years later, I've forgiven myself for choosing to love another person the way I do. Irrespective of reciprocation. I'm old enough to make peace with my darkness and I've got a new oath. To kiss no one but the boy with all the bark of the forests in his eyes. I'm not certain about how long that will last. But this time around I'm unapologetic. I've emptied out all the feeling from the places it isn't needed. I've begun to tell myself I'm not asking for too much and that maybe, just maybe, it is time to place what's mine back inside my rib cage and keep walking. Love comes and goes. Lovers come and go.
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A Change Of Heart
PoetryHealing isn't the easiest thing for me to do. I've tried to find it in between pages and rib cages. In loud rooms and the quiet of racing heartbeats. In poetry and rage. In that space between childhood and growing pains. In apologies that I refuse t...
