the light

an old friend

the way letters spin and twist to make patterns of words,
the way paint spreads and mixes into beautiful images,
the way keys sound, one after the other into a song so brilliant.
she would harness creativity from her aching pain,
she would cry and feel the weight of her world lift

she was a different person,
a person she now wishes she could meet once more.
ahe admired her power and drive

now she has nothing,
nothing but mediocre poetry,
nothing but snaps of a nostalgic camera,
nothing but her voice mimicking her favorite artists

but she's happier:
she fills with joy at the thought of talking with her new friends,
or the thought of a random conversation with someone so loved,
and her eyes light up at the thought of the perfect lighting for a perfect shot.

but she's massively jealous and can't find her words.
she can't bring herself to cry,
even when she's suffocating in tears.
she's lost her spark of personality.

but she's learning to love the new her.
because even with the jealousy and the loss of words,
comes love and the rebirth of a new style.
even with the suffocation of tears, comes the day they'll let go.
and even with the loss of a spark, comes the flicker of a new person.