To You, who will be alright



Goodnight from this side of the unlit globe, where I spent my day taking deep breaths, holding imaginary hands, and kissing air.

Last night I remembered hurt is temporary, fixable like breaks and bruises with the right medicine.

I don’t have a magic cure to patch all pains or gloss over the ache corroding your feet. I do have an open window to crawl through, to take a break, avoid the acid.

Our hands will end equally wrinkled, fabric encasing our bones as they rot at the same pace, and we will experience the same earth, but in different worlds.

I don’t believe that prevents us from being there to wrap blankets around frosted shoulders and pour a hot cup of tea for a stranger.

…but the universe is expanding and if you’re struggling with monsters now someday you’ll stumble on the right antidote and I hope to God it’s over-the-counter and you’ve just been looking in the wrong aisle.

You’ll feel the best kind of silly.

Life won’t always be heavy.