A Message To the Universe

I feel like sometimes people forget the miracle that we are.

For a moment I had forgotten as well.

To: The Universe

I feel our layers flaking,

You are sick with pica

Chewing our skin in frantics.

These muscles don’t fit on my bones anymore.

My exhaustion is seeping.

Nothing feels natural right now.

Some people die from chickenpox, you know.

The common fever could kill an infant, you know.

The common cold could catch us yet, you know.

All of my cartilage was stripped away in the rush of it all

In the quick,

“I love you but I have to leave you” of it all

An empty reminder that sometimes forevers

Only lasts six months,

Three weeks,

Ten days,

Others a quick minute,

A turn of the cheek,

A fingertip against a fingertip moment,

Sometimes I forget that you let us have forever only for the satisfaction of stealing it away again.

But today you cannot steal this, my mother’s legs , magnificent archways this small miracles is carried from.

I didn’t believe it.

Not for a while, that is.

Wrapped her fingers around my thumb,

And believe me when I say in that moment I felt healed.

You were healed.

Suddenly I had this thing to protect, a small piece of The Universe that was somehow beautiful again.

Even more amazing that she was, in a way, a part of me.

To: The Universe

I never once believed that single entity could change the way someone saw you.

I don’t hate you the way I used to.

In turn, I’ve started loving you; picking myself apart in miracles so I can understand how to fit my muscles on tighter, how to get better without choking on cough syrup,

How to hold onto forevers even when sometime their physical is gone.

I am part of the woodwork keeping you sealed.

As is she.