the decision you make to leave
has nothing to do with the people around you.
you can love and appreciate them
for helping you to grow,
for being your family when you needed one most,
but at the end of the day,
you must ask yourself,
how do I feel?
am I happy?
i am far too concerned
with my own well-being
to throw it away for a person
who uses words without thought.
every love in my life is a choice.
And you’ve done nothing so far
to make me choose you.
they are temporary.
they walk into your story,
and you have this feeling
that they aren’t going anywhere.
their presence is written in permanent marker,
the kind that bleeds through the page.
He’s so alive in my head,
because all I remember
is that time
that I accidentally opened the front door into his face.
And how his cheeks turned beet red,
and I laughed so hard that I fell on the carpet.
But today I couldn’t laugh.
I could only sob myself awake
for all of the people in his life who loved him,
for all the people that he touched,
for the loss of someone who was connected to each of us in some important way.
You were a part of our growing up,
You were so loved, dear.
You will always be loved.
are you asking me to break down your walls?
because I’m standing outside the door,
waiting to knock it down,
just so you can see how beautiful you look
with nothing hiding you.
To be willing to share your soul with others,
that is the greatest strength of all.
We are all fighting battles
that do not have names,
that are not put on display.
But that does not mean they are not worthy of being heard.
I put your name in the papers
and then told her to open the page.
I paid for the ink.
And now I’m like the editor,
who’s running around
trying to pick up all of yesterday’s prints,
hoping that nobody will see the mistake I made.
Hoping that you will see me panting on the sidewalk,
trying to catch my breath,
and stop to ask me why.