i want you to tell me about the way you move. the way you move on days your pulse sings and on days your pulse screams so loud your bones get scared and your body hides away. i want to know about the days the green looks greener and the sun looks sunnier, and the days you didn't think you'd make it through.
tell me about the clothes and hair dye and painted nails and lipstick and the parts of you that make you beautiful. tell me what you see when it's all stripped down. tell me about beautiful.
tell me about love. or the closest you've been to it. tell me about the smile that chased after it, tell me about the hope. the feeling that everything will turn out the way you want it to. the feeling of better than okay. tell me about the smile. tell me about the way you lost it. how you couldn't catch up to love, how fast it ran, how out of breath you are.
tell me about hate. the first time you felt it. the first time you felt it about yourself.
how it trembles louder than pain.
pain. let's go there. let's see where it touched you, where it translated your skin into different reasons you don't deserve love. where it stamped your skin and where you rubbed it on others.
tell me about the way you damaged people, and I will redefine cruel in a way that shows saints without their light on.
tell me about the rain and the sun and how rain puddles bring joy to kids, and how the sun isn't the hottest star; let this be a reminder that it's not as bad as it can be. that the worst it can be cannot touch us, even when the sun burns at its loudest, that this is all bearable. we can live through this. we will survive this.
tell me about the times you took from others without asking. the flowers you plucked out from the garden to put in your hair, the kisses you took from boys and girls whose names you didn’t bother to know to decorate your skin. tell me about the emptiness you left behind. the voids you created in others to fill up your own. then tell me about the times you sacrificed to bear the pain of watching others give up parts of themselves. tell me about the sacrifices. tell me about the ways you altered yourself for the sake of others. for the sake of being loved.
tell me what you believe in, and I'll tell you about my gods. tell me what and who makes you question faith. tell me about what makes you hold on and what pushes you to let go. tell me. and then tell me when you stopped. when you convinced yourself there is nothing to believe in. tell me when it happened. tell me why. tell me, do you think they stopped believing in you too?
tell me how you fight to be heard. how your lungs scream to be kissed to sleep when the night watches you cry and doesn't do anything. tell me about betrayal. how language sculpts the night into beauty but all you see is how far apart the stars stand from each other and how the moon doesn't wrap itself around them when the storm hits. all you see is lonely. tell me about betrayal. how it's just a feeling your bones manipulate your heart into believing that it isn't your fault. you didn't create this.
and then tell me about the morning. tell me about the way you survived the dark. the way you open your eyes, what do you see?
who do you see when you look at your reflection? tell me about home. tell me if it's there.
then tell me about the difference between deserve and earn.
tell me about the damage. the broken. the vulnerability it has for laying there, teared apart and powerless. the trust it is forced to have, for its destiny is in your hands. tell me how you hurt it. tell me how it hurt you back. then tell me how it didn't earn your love. how you didn't earn it back.
then tell me, do you walk away? find something new? or do you put the pieces back together and pretend to admire it like you did from the start?
tell me how not all broken is meant to be fixed and repaired and put back together. and then I'll show you how each piece can be whole in itself. i’ll show you how each broken part earned to be seen. to be admired. to be whole without being put back together like before.
let me show you what it sounds like when a mom says her child's name for the first time. let me show you what it feels like.
let me teach you, none of this, makes you a better person. none of this justifies that you are a person that deserves love. none of this is deserving. so let me teach you, that all this, simply makes you human. human after every break, earns to have their name said like it’s the first.
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