letter to self
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Dear You,
Do you remember
the way we used to be?
I don't,
not anymore.
Now, I find myself staring at old photos,
asking who you were.
I remember the days before the separate houses,
Dear Ana,
There is something out there for you,
you can't hear it or see it, but it's there
Like a flower growing,
or a caterpillar unknowing
You will grow,
you will bloom, transform,
and fly
Dear Alisha,
There's so much that I could tell you,
so much that I could say.
So much that I could wish for,
so much that I could think of every day.
to the one whom gravity holds tightest to,
you're an aging collection of
thin skin and heavy bones
known by a name
passed through the lips of few
with ribs housing
