You .

The earth spins in a constant rotation

That no one really can feel 

You used to be my axis

though I was a boring record

With speech impediments

 

You took residence inside my heart

 

We used to make inferences on eachother

That we always thought we were rich on 

Happiness 

But we noticed that a

piece of the puzzle was missing

The night we tried to settle dust out of our 

Oxygen tank...

 

December 23, 2015...

 

You discovered me...

And like an interactive notebook 

I told you my story with actions and words.

 

you learned about me and I learned about you.

 

You learned about the three beautiful white birds that flew through my window as I wrote this...

 

You were sent across the map

And although gravity can't be tethered with 

I wish I was the one pulled down underground 

And have you

Be the one that floats in place 

To make you

The center of my universe 

The center of this complicated game of chess

That only those with strategies 

Have a tremendous advantage of 

Surviving

 

You always wanted to see

Flowers blossom 

And those in hospital beds

To be 

Revived by magic wands 

Or sometimes you thought they 

Just overslept and left their alarms

Run crazy.

 

I told you how

I Cried the first time my mother wouldn't buy me cards 

That I traded with others

For temporary friendship.

 

Or how I owned old board games

That I kept in my basement 

Because I thought they were 

Haunted by ideas I wouldn't 

Agree with.

 

But when I did play...

I broke my arm after helping a friend, who was too tired of pulling up his face

For people that are just too busy hiding behind curtains like un-aired tv shows

 

You showed me a different way.

 

I became your surgeon.

I tried to cut away 

Your dismay

With tools from 

The tool shed

Made by your worrying

sent across the sky

Like ravens looking for their partners

 

And I remember clearly the day

You caught me under my bed

And no... It wasn't fear.

You told me to be social 

and introduced me to 2 warriors.

 

I don't 

Mean imaginary ones.

I mean those

That helped you fly through windows

In your beautiful white suit

Showing that peaceful places still exist.

 

They taught me to trade cards for their lives 

And in return, they told me

How love

Was just a rehab center for sadness.

Lonesome.

 

But you...

There are things you wouldn't accept...

You would just end our daily adventures and say "don't worry about me. I'll be okay"

 

Maybe you thought you were as hideous 

As the mop

Used for the gym floors of those

That hated you.

But You made me spellbound 

Frozen 

So before liquid rolled down your beautiful pale cheeks

I would try to

Engrave the tears into your skin

As Braille so even the 

Blind would understand the nature

Of your beauty

 

So please

Let my arms be the tracker

Of your mood swings

For when you need a 

Hug

 

Let the complexion of my skin

Tell you how many times

I've stood under the sun

To get to your safe place

 

And Maybe a cramped piece of paper

Isn't enough to show you the way

My heart bends when you

Curl up and shut down

 

But it shows that even trees 

Rather die than see you struggle

From lack of confidence 

That the warriors and I tried to give you.

 

I still watch re-runs of our memories 

Back when 

Legos protected us

 

And although we now lay like

Roadkill in the middle

Of two roads

 

Our warriors never perished 

From tiredness

They made purples hearts and stitched them on us

Operating your indescribable solutions

So that when we lined in 

uniform position

We'd make a sign of

Success.

 

And although I still expect an echo 

From your actions

To bounce you back 

Life is too open to others

That now

echoes don't reach those

That deserve them

The most.

 

But I still leave myself into the idea that you will read this one day...

 

So for now...

I'll Grant crickets permission 

To inject echoes 

Of memories 

Of those days when I still used

A blanket as a cape

And protected you from unnecessary 

Meteoroids

 

Then Be open

Like stores that sell hope to those stumbling 

Upon disbelief

 

Be the one to re-run clips of 

Other people's lives

So they won't forget

Their origins

 

And it's okay to remember all the pain my hand suffered when writing this

But remind them...

About the three birds that flew through my window...

And how one of them 

Was a bounce back 

From a never ending story

Of remembrance.

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741