I have seen the best of you, and the worst of you, and I choose both.
Still now I send letters into space Hoping that some mailman somewhere will track you down And recognise you from the descriptions in my poems That he will place the stack of them in your hands and tell you, There is a girl who still writes you, she doesn’t know how not to.
And know this: Know you are the type of woman who is searching for a place to call yours. Let the statues crumble. You have always been the place. You are a woman who can build it yourself. You were born to build.
There is a girl who still writes you; she doesn’t know how not to.
Some nights, I wake up knowing he is anxious. He is across the world in another woman’s arms and the years have spread us like dandelion seeds, sanding down the edges of our jigsaw parts that used to only fit each other.
My world was the size of a crayon box, and it took every colour to draw her.
She makes tea by hand. Nettles, slippery elm, turmeric, cinnamon – my mother is a recipe for warm throats and belly laughs. Once she fell off a ladder when I was three. She says all she was worried about was my face as I watched her fall.
We were dandelion seeds released to the wind, she asked for no return. We are saplings now. With gentle hands.
No matter your wreckage. There will be someone to find you beautiful, despite the cruddy metal. Your ruin is not to be hidden behind paint and canvas. Let them see the cracks. Someone will come to sing into these empty spaces.
If I should have a daughter, instead of Mom, she’s gonna call me Point B, because that way she knows that no matter what happens, at least she can always find her way to me.
Because there’s nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it’s sent away.
This world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so easily but don’t be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.
You can only fit so many words in a postcard, only so many in a phone call, only so many into space before you forget that words are sometimes used for things other than filling emptiness.