I have known far too many people with permanent bruising and bitter hearts to approach things the way I wish I could. This is not naïveté. I know the way the world works, I just wish sometimes that it worked a little differently, had softer edges, did not go after open hearts in the dark.
I am still biting my nails, but I no longer taste your name beneath them.
I wake up happy, these days. I think you would find a way to make this sunlight inside of me go to sleep, so I do not tell you it has started showing up again. I don’t know if you remember the last time I smiled like this, but it ended with you. I did not smile so much after the end.
I have been learning to keep myself whole without filling in the empty places with the names of those I wish I could love. I think I can stand on my own, now. This soil is so kind to me, letting me sink into its body as I find the roots within my own.
No one has been this kind to me in years. I sometimes wonder if I am dreaming of these words. They seem to exist in this place of longing and impossibility.
Falling asleep is so much easier when I do not have to convince myself to think of something with less sharp claws, something that will hurt less, something I can justify loving.
I used to feel so much for the things I could not reach.
I see your name on every skyscraper, every airplane, every horizon. I have stopped reaching for it. You will always be in this world of mine, hovering close to the things I need to strain my neck to see, the difference is, now, you have become just another piece of the landscape.
I am learning to care for the things that can see me.
Marrying young is not the end of my freedom. It means I want to travel and see the world, but with her by my side. It means I still like drinking in bars and dancing in clubs, but stumbling home with her at 2am and eating pizza in our underwear. It means I know that I want to kiss those lips every morning, and every night before bed. If you see marriage as the end of your ‘freedom’, you’re doing it wrong.
Detach from needing to have things work out a certain way. The Universe is perfect and there are no failures. Give yourself the gift of detaching from your worries and trust that everything is happening perfectly.
The secret of change is to focus all of your energy, not on fighting the old, but on building the new.
Women are emotional in order to feel the divine energy at the highest levels and be supreme healers and lovers and mothers. Not to drive men insane. Her deep spiritual connection to feelings is to inspire a man to his spiritual heights as well. She is not a nag, she is an oracle.
If I should have a daughter
"Instead of “Mom”, she’s gonna call me “Point B.” Because that way, she knows that no matter what happens, at least she can always find her way to me. And I’m going to paint the solar system on the back of her hands so that she has to learn the entire universe before she can say ‘Oh, I know that like the back of my hand.’
She’s gonna learn that this life will hit you, hard, in the face, wait for you to get back up so it can kick you in the stomach. But getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air. There is hurt, here, that cannot be fixed by band-aids or poetry, so the first time she realizes that Wonder-woman isn’t coming, I’ll make sure she knows she doesn’t have to wear the cape all by herself. Because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers, your hands will always be too small to catch all the pain you want to heal. Believe me, I’ve tried.
And ‘Baby,’ I’ll tell her ‘don’t keep your nose up in the air like that, I know that trick, you’re just smelling for smoke so you can follow the trail back to a burning house so you can find the boy who lost everything in the fire to see if you can save him. Or else, find the boy who lit the fire in the first place to see if you can change him.’
But I know that she will anyway, so instead I’ll always keep an extra supply of chocolate and rain boats nearby, ‘cause there is no heartbreak that chocolate can’t fix. Okay, there’s a few heartbreaks chocolate can’t fix. But that’s what the rain boots are for, because rain will wash away everything if you let it.
I want her to see the world through the underside of a glass bottom boat, to look through a magnifying glass at the galaxies that exist on the pin point of a human mind. Because that’s how my mom taught me. That there’ll be days like this, ‘There’ll be days like this my momma said’ when you open your hands to catch and wind up with only blisters and bruises. When you step out of the phone booth and try to fly and the very people you wanna save are the ones standing on your cape. When your boots will fill with rain and you’ll be up to your knees in disappointment and those are the very days you have all the more reason to say ‘thank you,’ ‘cause there is nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline no matter how many times it’s sent away.
You will put the “wind” in win some lose some, you will put the “star” in starting over and over, and no matter how many land mines erupt in a minute be sure your mind lands on the beauty of this funny place called life.
And yes, on a scale from one to over-trusting I am pretty damn naive but I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so easily but don’t be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.
'Baby,' I’ll tell her 'remember your mama is a worrier but your papa is a warrior and you are the girl with small hands and big eyes who never stops asking for more.'
Remember that good things come in threes and so do bad things and always apologize when you’ve done something wrong but don’t you ever apologize for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining.
Your voice is small but don’t ever stop singing and when they finally hand you heartbreak, slip hatred and war under your doorstep and hand you hand-outs on street corners of cynicism and defeat, you tell them that they really ought to meet your mother.”
For me to remember. For her to learn. #lifelessons
I will never be a ten at one-night stands
or in anything that fades easily, three, two,
one, zero. Tell me about the scar under your chin,
or the moment you said goodbye to someone and
your tongue fell into a cliff of permanence
you cannot even utter the first few letters.
You spelled it wrong, my name. When you
asked for my number I gave you a lie of a smile
and a kiss not even close to meaning it.
Can we do this again sometime?
Let’s forget about being wrong for each other
the first time. I want you over and over again,
maybe one of these days we will feel right.
You will take my hand, stay with me after six
and we will no longer pretend that this is pretend.