Some days finding hope is like fishing for a dry grain of sand in the sea. We are weary and boneless with our sand drenched skin, shivering and sick for that beacon of light. Drown as you might, do not cease your search for that one dry grain, not even as the waves pull you under into the darkness. When you find it, it will be the light to take you home.

You are this idea

half-formed and flickering

waiting for the day

someone decides

to finish you.

I could put together all the images of my mind into words, commit them to paper in ink that feels more like blood from my veins than scratches from a pen. It wouldn’t do you justice. My words could never do you justice.

We are a tiny thing, you and I. Two inches tall in a sea full of giants. We live like firecrackers, the steep set reality that at any second we’re crushed under their feet, a flick in time and gone, heavy on our limbs. It’s why with a steady voice you said, “I love you,” and without missing a beat I said it back. It’s why when you got lost in the waves I let go of the shore anchoring me down. It is why we go off in the middlle of daylight, New Year’s coming round in the middle of May. But they’ll never know, those giants in the sea, about us. They don’t understand the tiny things, forever blind to the colored sparks exploding against the sun.

Maybe one day you’ll wake up and realize none of it mattered. We were just a blip in time, a speck of dirt on this Earth. We passed through like a ghost over water, soundless and small. But it did matter. It mattered to you. It mattered to me.

I get a little lost some days. I think today might be one of them. I hope you believe me when I say tomorrow, I’ll find my way back to you. 

We give our hate freely but jealously hide our love. It’s a selective process, we pick out from flesh and bone what is worthy of our love and what isn’t it. Secretly we worry it’s us who aren’t worthy.

The world is worthy.

You are worthy.

We fell in love once. My hands were carved in the shapes of your fingers and your mouth met mine, smooth and soft. We picked the stars off the sky and you hid them in the floorboards where the sun danced across the wall. You held me in your arms on cold days and you spun me round and round until I was so dizzy I swore I fell off the edge of Earth’s edge. I believed you when you said you’d catch me. Every time you did, the weight of my bones heavy on the cracks of your palms. One day the cracks gave in and I fell through them, but as hard and fast as I fell there was only ground beneath, nothing more nothing less to fear, and I realized I didn’t need you to catch me anymore. The earth had caught me; you couldn’t hold on to me anymore so you didn’t. Sometimes I wonder if your hands ever feel empty, if the cracks filled up again with star dust. Well fell in love once, and once was enough. 

I’ve created this prison. Deep within myself and walls so high, the climb up and out is agonizing. I slip, I fall, but I try. I’m trying.