Day 1,300 of Being Kinder to Myself

1,300 days is a long time.
Long enough to heal,
long enough to grieve.
Long enough for silence
to disguise itself as peace.

But I still hear it.
A whisper hiding in my sigh,
an old thirst that never dies.
It’s perfectly hidden;
as a fight with a friend,
as a stormy day,
as a dull ache never fading away.
It never comes shouting.
It slides in with ease.
Like a room I used to live in,
air nostalgic with retreat.

Sometimes I miss it.
Not the pain nor the cost,
but the way that it hugged me,
when I was all alone and lost.
How it blurred the sharp edges,
but just barely enough,
for it to feel soft instead of rough.

But I don’t go back.
At least not today.
Today, I say pass;
it’s my brain I obey.
I choose my own loss,
despite missing the high,
of getting what I was,
before saying goodbye.

This is not forgetting.
This is a fight.
This is me walking
with strength through the night.
This is not freedom.
This is choosing thereof.
And maybe that, too,
is a form of self-love.

Unpledging

the screws on my pencil sharpener came loose again.

The Last Rain

Like raindrops cold on frozen stone,

Your absence chills me to the bone.

I speak at night, my words intoned,

Each breath a weight I bear alone.

We laughed beneath the silver skies,

Not knowing it would be the end.

Now every star above me cries,

For all my messages left unsent.

Who knew that smile would be the last?

That your big wish would soon come true?

The future faded to the past.

Now every night, I think of you.

No time to speak a last goodbye,

No chance to guide you through the pain.

I watch the petals as they fly,

And pray they bring you back with rain.

Hippity

With little limbs, so swift yet small,

You rolled into my life, a tiny ball.

With gentle eyes, a curious face,

You turned my nights into brighter days.

But New Year’s Eve took you away,

Leaving my heart in disarray.

No longer would your legs take flight,

Your tiny world now held by night.

I couldn’t let your memory fade,

So here you rest, a tribute was made.

In this little jar, your beauty froze.

You were the first baby I ever chose.

Your terrarium stays the same, untouched.

Your silk still clings where you once clutched.

I dare not move the threads you twirled;

Your art, your shelter, your entire world.

My first little baby, you’ll always be,

A piece of my soul, a part of me.

A tiny life, so full of cheer.

I'm sorry for leaving you behind last year.