I cannot seem to understand how hate can reside in a heart.
How is there room?
Isn’t your heart full of love?
Love for your life?
Love for your friends?
Love for your family?
Isn’t your heart full of hope?
Hope for tomorrow?
Hope for a thousand tomorrows?
Isn’t your heart bursting at the seams?
So, how is there any room for the hate you have for me?
Sometimes I wear your shirts.
Sometimes I feel so small that I will shrink inside of it and no one will ever find me.
Sometimes I wear your boots.
Sometimes I feel as if the weight of where you are will crush me under the heel.
Sometimes I wear your tags.
Sometimes I look down to see your name and feel brave enough to face the day.
Sometimes I wear the smile you left me.
Sometimes it’s all I need.
I’m taking pictures
of nothing, and posting them
to feed a full beast.
Every word seems empty.
No matter how hard I try to articulate this place, I fall short.
I’m grasping for something.
I know it.
My heart is too full, or is it too empty?
I’ll just let the string quartet play.
I’m chronically sick and tired of being afraid that I will have to explain and defend my body to you.
Collecting your words like artifacts.
I’ll preserve them and keep them safe.
I’ll keep them on display and only break the glass in case of emergency.
My feet are stuck in this same old place,
But my heart is beating a thousand miles away.
It’s sipping coffee on a river bank,
And making angels in a bed of sand.
It’s paddling across a mountain lake,
And it’s sitting next to you, holding your hand.
I’ve stood in the house of your wings and listened to you flap to the beat of time.
Open and close to show your beauty to the world.
Just a glimpse, and then you’re off.
Flying so high, I’m forced to squint to find you again.
Is that your hope?
To keep me looking up?
I will look to you forever.
Five minutes of your voice will soothe my heart for eternity.
Near or far.
Just like we said.