Close your eyes, my darling.

Remember the white feathers you shed at dusk.

Remember the nights you spend in your mind, breaking your own heart over and over again as you replay what went wrong, what you did, where you went astray.

Pretending, lying, playing with the devil himself, losing the essence of you.

Close your eyes, my darling.

Recall the words “I love you,” and the weight of these three syllables on your precious chest.

Hold tight to the crumble.

Yes, the crumble.

And let your heart remember.

Remember the aches and the pain, the consistent questions running through your brain, the power you so gracefully gave away.

Clench your fists and remember the spirit violently ripped away from each of your ligaments.

Can you believe you let him rip you to pieces?

Remember how long it took you to find them again?
 
 

Remember the days behind the scenes, 

where you found yourself on new terrain,

Feeling the dry heat from deserts out west,

And the ungodly humidity of the everglades way down south,

You hiked mountains you didn’t know existed.

And when you reached the top, you fell to your knobby knees and you cried.

Now breathe, and forgive for you are already forgiven.

The soil beneath that strengthens you.

The rain that falls that cleanses you.

The universe that forgives you.

But don’t forget to close your eyes,

And remember when another dove cries in your presence,

And you see her tears as only child’s play,

Remember,

She breaks with each wave,

And collapses with the tide,

Don’t diminish her current,

Don’t belittle her journey,

Don’t deny that her broken pieces,

Aren’t truly broken,

Urge her to close her own eyes,

And remind her of her own resiliency,

Through expressing how you were once in pieces too,

And remind her,

To look at you now.

~

 

 

Author: Emily Gordon

Editors: Renée Picard; Caitlin Oriel

Image: bhumikabhatia at Flickr