You blew me apart like an atomic bomb.
With you, it was like I was all there, but everything was in the wrong place. Or,
maybe I was inside out. My organs outside and my skin on the middle. Yes, I was a person but it wasn't quite right, who I was was suppressed so far inside of me, it was only something of this magnitude that could have flipped me right side out.
After you, I gathered the bits of myself that were strewn along the walls, the floor, the ceiling, the bits that were caught onto shooting stars as they careened by, the half of my heart that hung on the moon like a secret.
I started to stitch myself together, cell by cell, molecule by molecule. I still have the same genetic makeup, still pieced together with the same star dust, but in the way that diamonds are made of the same atoms as coal, they've just been through hell and back.
After you, I'm becoming the person I've always wanted to be. A good, kind, smart, beautiful, confident bad-ass with a goal on her brain and a hope in her heart.
I'm not there yet, but I don't think you'd recognize me anymore. And thank god, you can't recognize me anymore.
YOU ARE READING
Lungs and Coffee Cups
Poetry"I believe we hold our feelings in our lungs, and at the bottom of empty coffee cups" The life and writings of j.l., a book of poetry containing absolute devastation and pure joy.
