tonight she does not sleep. a shooting star sends their condolences. may she find solace in this soft glow of surrender. this sinking to the earth. tonight she is the forest and the rain. a gentle thing, relentless. the torrential downpour that can only yield to quiet morning. bowing to the promise of it. there is rain outside the window. and inside the room. her hair is wet, eyes wide, hands missing. there is no way to know where the dream starts, where the trees end. if they do. the frogs have their lullabies, serenade the birds plummeting from the sky. the deer are dancing to it. the rabbits scatter. someone told her, the earth is round, but not soft. his eyes are round. what does it mean to be soft? what does it matter. he is not a poem. or a metaphor. he is only beautiful, only a boy. and she is only dreaming. now he is walking away. she is waking to a dream and she is falling, twisting, grasping, and he is still out of reach. it's the end of the world until the soft start of dawn.
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i am letting go of the match. i am amber and crimson and violet in an afternoon ablaze. my skin glistens under the touch of a setting sun. i breathe out. douse the flames before they consume me. my body no longer burns. along the horizon, sea swallows smoke. waves glide up and up the shoreline to meet me halfway. here i am unafraid of the depths. here water surges smooth against my legs. i smell salt and sweat and sweet. this is a reunion. my toes melt into warm wet beach. ocean opens to soothe the scars. now i am swimming in fuchsia and cerulean and lavender. fists dissolve into hands. into the swells i soften. head above water. body wavers gently like a sunrise. stars ripple in reflections around me. the light is a ribbon threading through my hair. i am not afraid of the night. moon beckons to tide. never is there a plea for more time. nor a fear of change. even in the darkness, she is whole.
dear future self,
as every step takes you through new doorways, you will exemplify the radiance and confidence that i stride towards every day. when the time comes to unpack your independence, you will remember to look up and compliment your roommate’s eyes. you will push past the walls in your mind and stretch your circle, keep truth clutched against your chest, chase compelling opportunities into territories unknown. trust in your ability to rise from the depths, and do not be afraid to dive headfirst into the water. introduce yourself to your professors and thank them for their lessons. wearing warm socks and an even warmer smile, go to their office hours. listen to their stories. one day, you will find yourself siting in the intersection of your fear and your future. keep your head up and keep moving forward. find this letter tucked away in your planner. you are allowed to look back and smile. take a deep breath and a sip of cocoa while you trace with your fingertips the tools that will help you pave your way into the world. do not wait until the last minute to do laundry, and never take your education for granted. your grandparents crossed an ocean for you. your parents saved their paychecks for you. the teachers who taught you to count are now counting on you. always do your best. it is enough. everyone says that college is what you make of it, and sometimes it is okay to listen to everyone. you deserve to enjoy it. sincerely, senior year the assignments are submitted. school is dismissed. exhaling slowly i close the grade book and put down the calculator. unclench my fists. release the stress. the anger. the grief. my drivers license in one hand. the other is open for handshakes and high fives. for patting people on the back and dogs on the head. i exist now in the peace after the destruction. after wilted smiles, drowned eyes, quaking hands, fiery tongues. no longer is my mind a weapon. nor my body a battleground. softness becomes my strength. the journey has been difficult, and it is not over yet. but look: the love in this light. what is sprouting from the dirt. from sunshine and fresh air and water, and even in rain and thunder. i keep going. i keep growing.
this is the place. the room where we first met. the hallway where i had my first kiss. the locker we shared filled with hoodies and handwritten letters. once i baked chocolate chip cookies and fell asleep in his arms. once i got lost in the place between romance and reality... there was no turning back. and these are the hands. my hands. that suddenly had to let go of his. that wanted so desperately to forget. but for a long time remembered. only cold. skin. scars. and for a long time forgot. to be gentle, warm, kind. i cannot pinpoint where we lost direction. but there are darts in my heart from every misjudged movement. i cannot retrace the history. so i take backroads and map getaways. replacing an address with an anniversary and turning a human into a home only results in a displaced heart. going astray in the intersections of my mind until i lose control and crash into the memories. our song becomes shattering glass. his laughter an echo in the impact. it is difficult. navigating myself out of bed. around polluted thoughts and feelings. recalculating over and over the route that might bring me back to myself. here we are. the lunchroom that fed me fudge cookies, french fries, and friendship. the dance floor covered in discarded heels and glistening polaroids. the parking lot where i learned control. there is the bakery where i will bring my friends on summer mornings before adventures. and for study sessions in september. look closely. flowers are blooming in the cracked pavement now. and these are the hands. my hands. which have always held tightly. until it is time to let go. that are doing so now with a broken promise.
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