In My Own Head

Let me tap into what lies beneath the surface. I will keep your secrets safe as I explore every inch of a heart you keep under constant guard.

I watch you channel your pain into art, into poetry, into music, into prayer. It baffles me how you embrace life with so much agony and refuse to ask for anything in return except the precious privilege of expression.

“Come out of this alive. You are more than what keeps you up at night. You are more than capable of triumph. Knock the teeth out of your fears. Remind them who is in charge.”

“‘What changed you?’ The lump in my throat formed faster than my ability to provide an answer.”

“The presence of other beautiful women does not diminish your own beauty. Ladies, celebrate each other.”

“‘Passion is when you strike a match against someone else, and it is compelled to burn.’ ‘But what burns, the match or the person?’ ‘Both.’”

“Do not dwell on lost time. If it changed you for the better, it was not lost time at all.”

‘You have been gone a while,’ she said. What she meant was, ‘I have missed you for eternities.’

I noticed your rushed messages grow shorter in length, just like my patience to wait for someone who is not coming back.