To the Young and Broken-Hearted,
Love is understanding that when flower blossoms beautiful and valiant against the gray-blue of the sky it will cease to last forever no matter how much you tend to it, no matter how much you give it you're all. But you will never forget the sweet scent that will linger on everything that you own and remind you of what it once was. When you love someone for the first time, you give them a part of you, you never knew you had.
You subconsciously map out all the parts of you that they can hurt and you hand them the knife. The trust that comes along with love is unconditional at times. So when they choose the knife over your hand your world becomes so much smaller and the pain so much greater. And I know you’ll still love them because they used to choose your hand before. They used to hold you close and paint the sunset on your skin, adding pink to the scars on your heart, and fiery reds to emphasize the bold warrior they saw in you. Then the red unravelled and now it’s in your eyes and on your knuckles and the anger holds you closer than they ever did. The sunrise is clouded with rain but no matter how wide you stretch your fingers you can’t catch all the pain you want to heal.
But you’re still broken. After the sun rises and sets, after the moon kisses the darkness after the trees rise and unfurl their open arms. You’re still broken. And pieces of you drift away with every memory that breaks your heart even more until there is a void. So, let it come to you, the loneliness. Let it come to you at 2 am when your heart starts to spill and your eyes start to drown. Cross the jagged mountain that erupts between you and peace, even if it cracks the hollows of your bones, hold your breath and sink into the earth. Let it seep into your skin and rise again blooming with something so bright even the night could not hide. The broken pieces of you will shine like a thousand jewel fragments and you’ll be happily embraced by spring, the rebirth of every living thing. And you will be okay. You will breathe easily again and the hurt will condense and evaporate like water off your beating heart. The world will rise off your shoulders and give you a second chance to spin it again.
Love is understanding when the flower you loved shrivels and its petals drop one by one to the ground disintegrating to ash. The scent you remember will never stop lingering on the pieces you hold close. And every time you miss it, it will pass by and remind you of everything that once was and will ever be. No one will blame you for your grief. Because you were young and broken-hearted.
