carpe noctem

I am here, I am trying, and that is enough.

I will claw myself out from underneath this rubble and grow in spite of you.

I mourn you, and you have yet to die. Years have passed, and your name still tastes bittersweet on my tongue. I do not know if you ever loved me, or if you could have had the timing been better. Time has told me nothing—it remains silent like you. I have written about you to the point of hands cramping, and you will never know which poems are about you. This is poetic secrecy at its finest, and yet I still feel more open than you ever were.

My body has forgotten how to relax / my shoulders hold tension like an infant clings to its mother / this is survival mode / I cannot find the off switch or my rose-colored glasses / I see the world differently / the day seizes me / the night is thick with dread / I know that the nightmares are coming / thank goodness the Moon’s beauty is constant / I guess there is still light amid this darkness

Let the tension flow out of your shoulders. The abyss has become much easier to sink into these days, but the darkness in your head is wrong about you. You are and always have been enough.

Let yourself be still. Life is full of ebbs and flows, and there is joy to be found in floating.

I love you, which is to say that no matter how broken you believe you are, and no matter how violently the waves of life thrash you around, I will always hold a space for you in these arms.

If the Moon was eclipsed and the night sky was starless, I could get by on your radiance alone. You shine far brighter than you could ever know.

I find comfort in the night. The rest of the world slows down, and my mind follows suit. The peaceful silence washes over my surroundings, soothing my weary soul. The minutes that go by are mine alone, and what I do with them is between me and the Moon.

Your blackness is beautiful no matter the shade.