The day I found out you were dying,
I felt like I had already known.
I had been hurting for you.
For a while,
I nervously said, you know technically..
The moment you are born you are already “dying”,
So, Could you please elaborate?
And this thought was not an effort to dumb down the pain,
But rationalize what had entered my ears,
Thousands of words bouncing in my head,
Like bullets,
Tearing through all of the walls that had compartmentalized my emotions,
Oh how I had spent so long building them,
Don’t break.
Don’t break.
DON’T BREAK!
The bricks are falling faster than I can pick them up now.
I realize there are……
Tears,
So foreign to my face,
They trace my cheeks with warmth,
A contradiction,
Caused by pain,
I think of the first time our eyes met,
The butterflies that filled the then pristine halls of my heart,
They had yet to ever feel pain and I often imagined those particular butterflies to be more like extremely graceful phoenixes.
Big. Bold. New.
Yet never had I imaged that they had come from ashes.
I was Still too young to realize that often times the most beautiful things are created by pain or some form of trauma,
Quite Obviously I am still too young
Because I have yet
to find the beauty
in this
-B-