I know you’ll live.
Despite the agony of him leaving.
Despite the cut of his words.
I know those things
made you feel like you were dying.
I know when you were suspended
in absolute
mind-numbing
all-consuming
anguish.
The empty darkness
where his silhouette
should have been in your doorway.
The silence that smothered
(heartbreak
sounds like a slamming door).
I know how you bled
beneath your own touch
just to try and ground yourself again.
I know that your skin lived under your nails
for days
before you found the will to scrub
your pain away.
You were so broken.
(Snapped clean in half,
like a wishbone
or a heart)
No one would ever touch you again.
You would keep yourself so safe.
Every trauma after that.
Every time you had the taste of guilt
on your tongue
instead of someone’s kiss,
you told yourself you’d live.
After every sob torn from your throat
like dreams snatched from a sleeping
child
you swore you’d live.
There were many times
you felt so overwhelmed by grief
you were sure it would consume you.
Would devour you whole.
(Darkness leaves no survivors)
I know you were numb in your own skin.
I know you could only taste your tears,
only see as far as the next second,
only hear the dull thud of your heartbeat
(the only proof you had)
You survived.
You always said you would.
I know
you’ll live.
But I want you to live happy. Live fiercely. Live boldly. Live so well that only the joy can ever overwhelm you.