Nikita

After the countless, utterly pointless battles with her; I see someone who still hopes.

Didn’t you say you wouldn’t do so? Why?

Tattered will, bruised heart, undecided mind, on the ground, seething with bright eyes as I tell her “it’s hopeless. you’ve never done anything, you’re so flawed, useles—” our eyes meet.

silence drapes us, me. the critic and the sweet child who hopes still shines, though bruised.

I cease the war. I sit down in defeat.

I was never kind. Always selfish. As if I always knew everything about others.

Kind to everyone but not to me. Selfish. Selfish.

how could I be kind, when I was never kind to her?

I still get angry, but I remember her hand clutching my sleeve; for her— I will. It’s okay to let her hope, to let her breathe, to live…for me.

it’s okay to hope. it’s okay to want. it’s okay to want good things. it’s okay. it is okay.