How many cycles of holding space for myself 

How many hours of crying alone 

How many hours of you have to process it you can’t heal it if you don’t feel it you have to open yourself up and feel it down to your bones 

No one else on the planet has any idea how many miles I have walked 

There is nowhere unopen to me 

There is nowhere I cannot journey, into you, into me, into anyone: there is no journey 

I do not intrinsically understand, no loss I have not charted in my own body and mind. 

I am not afraid of being alone. 

I am not afraid of you never loving me. 

I am not afraid of you never calling me. 

Whether or not you ever recognize your inability to see me does not pertain to the fact that I see me. 

Whether or not you ever recognize the receipts in your lap does not pertain to the fact that you are in debt to me. 

I don’t think many people know what it is like others to truly owe their physical existence to you. 

I have held your body and your mind and your soul in my hands and I have decided to preserve 

Your going out and your coming in, your mothers blessings, your brothers desperation. 

I have held your mind and your body and your soul in my hands and I have decided to preserve 

Your own sense of self, your ego, your pride, your wounding, the story of who you are.

You could not have done it alone. 

You are nothing alone. 

Growing into a presence that exists solo, a single pinprick of light in the vast expanse,

Requires cosmic combustion. Requires a ferocity of mass and burning and fuel and fire. 

Requires light. 

You can leave me and still I burn. You left me on fire and I am my own light now.