i have written poems for the me
the me that sat in the back of english class with bullets loaded in my mouth
yet never shot
i have written poems for the me that couldn’t get over a relationship after
13 months of silence
with stolen glances down the hallway with unspoken and unfinished words that float in the air like balloons forbidden to fall down
I have written poems for the me that stayed up way too late at night with music blaring way too loud to imprison my thoughts behind the bars of music.
but this one, this ones for you
the you that falls and gets back up and falls and gets back up again and falls and gets back up like it’s nothing despite the cuts and bruises on your knees that are only signs of
strength in your eyes.
the you that locks your door shut to silence the tears you pour into your pillow
like a river over flowing after a storm, but you are not only the river but the storm that is strong enough to send the tides crashing against the shore.
the you that has gone through more battles and wars than history ever did
and you may come out with bloody scars but you don’t tell the story of how they came to be but instead how they healed
the you that came from a missing puzzle piece family with lost corners and rugged edges where mommy and daddy are nouns instead of verbs that are missing pieces lost within the picture.
this one’s for the you that’s still broken
this one’s for you
what you were
what you are
and what you will
be.