Forget Me Not

2

Here you are again, plucking letters you don’t even have the guts to spill— lumping in your throat to be lashed out by someone.

But who is that someone? Is it the God you believe? If His far who would move? If His not listening who would hear you? If His too silent who would say you are alright?

If it’s Him I pray for your soul to vanish from your sins. I pray for your mind to stop seeding the negatives. I pray for your heart to take off the bandages and stitches.

I need your ears to be attentive with the cracking of your bones and the gasping of your lungs. Do not stick your nose on the ground, learn to cover it with your trembling hands. You might discover choking in self pity won’t do justice to the kid you were.

With your body tattooed by neglected wounds and bruises— you’re too gentle in handling others’ pain. But how about you?

You taught enough your injuries on how to kiss you down to the core, that it made the whole out of an angel in you — taming the monster to whom supposed to devour who inflicted you the hurt you do not deserve.

Let it bleed, let it all ache. Let the void, the emptiness, the lack of hope, the deserted motivation, the out grown discipline be not watered by the grief your eyes could not bawl off. Let it all be evident in the way you speak your truth with those stutters.

It is in your deadness you cultivate the life you’re not living.

And I whispered, “ God, she’s losing it ”.