My parents always taught me
to stand up for myself,
but when asked to choose
between my heart or my brain,
I chose love.
I chose our late-night conversations,
studying the way his eyelashes danced
back and forth in the moonlight,
counting the freckles on his shoulder blades
wondering how many kisses
could cover his entire body.
I chose the way his eyes flickered
like fireflies in glass jars,
and like an art exhibit,
I caged our love behind bars.
It couldn’t budge, baby,
so of course it stayed. It stayed,
but he didn’t.
He grew wings and escaped from
the pedestal I put him on
while I was too busy holding onto something
destined to fall from my fingertips.
I was tied to his love like a rope swing,
like a constant game of tug-of-war
between him and my well-being.
I changed my life after him.
I changed my field of study,
learned about the galaxies in the sky,
how one million Earths can fit inside
of the sun, but in just 30 minutes,
our bodies can produce enough heat
to boil half a gallon of water.
I realized you are powerful even if
you cannot swallow the sun.
I realized I lost myself behind bars.
So darling,
if he wants to grow wings,
let him go.
Let him grow.
Don’t hold him back; instead,
move forward with him.
Maybe right now you’ll stay parallel beings
hoping someday you will come to
an intersection, but I promise
that is always better than staying standstill.
Someday the distance will be worth it
because it will teach you who you are.
izzy806
annaxmalina
theartofmadeline
yousharknotpass
prguitarman
ellievsbear
romaincrisis
germansingergirl
