The Weight You Carry

How much can you lift?

50 pounds? 100?!
Wow, that's pretty impressive. I can't do that at all, I have noodle arms.
But I've moved a bookshelf down a couple flights before. A few tables here and there, boxes too. I've lifted a mattress -- which is surprisingly heavy.

Carrying those things out and away is hard.
I always joke that there's no such thing as making two trips. Or that it's either no pain or no gain. So I tend to carry more than I can hold. Haha, my friends definitely know from the times we've went grocery shopping.

But anyways - yeah. I've moved a piano once -- desks, chairs, sofas even.

I've put their winter sweaters away, while they sorted the rest.
I've stacked the chairs into the hall, while they pretended it was a throne.
I've picked up one end of the box, while they labeled it with "fragile" on all sides.
I've brought a lamp down the stairs, while they double checked for anything left behind.
I've loaded the car for the 8th time, while they said goodbye to the Nelson's.

I've held the door for them so they could walk out first.

After a while, I'd thought the weight would be easier to carry... but it feels almost heavier -- and it's funny because it's not that bad.
Because those things can all be set down, unpacked, unwrapped, reorganized, dusted, and it's good to go. They're only heavy for as long as they're in your hands.

But what's bad is when it's not in your hands.
The heaviness can sit on your heart - now that's the worst.

I can never get a good grip on that heaviness. It has no handles, no corners, no concrete feeling -- it feels uneasy. Just like when

I overthink and let things go easily. when
I don't know what the last thing my grandma said to me. when
I get scared my family will be gone before I understand their love. when
I feel alone sometimes while I'm around others.

Now because I can never get a good grasp on it - it moves however it likes.
The heaviness can feel like that for a quick moment, or it can linger for however long it wants.

But that kind of heaviness is probably not what you meant.

So, no.
I don't know exactly how much I can lift -- but 100 pounds, 24 elephants, or however heavy Jupiter is.
It doesn't compare to the weight I've carried.

Looking Back

Hey you.
Whatever you do, don't do it.

I know it's easy and it's tempting to turn around and go back to everything you knew - but it'll only hurt a little bit more.

The places you've been, known, had gotten comfortable in - eventually gets old. You relive too many moments that begin to blur. Though you convince yourself you're making new memories there, it all  becomes the same.

The same people, gossip, reveries, and the semi-decent moments you claim to be wonderfully unique.

Been there, done that.
But you're right there, doing that - and it's not fun anymore.

We're not exploring, finding new things to do, and surprising ourselves with our own thoughts. As sweet as those moments were - looking back makes me lose myself a little more. It does.

It does.

So please don't turn around, because I might have to leave you behind.

I can't promise that it'll be good or bad - whatever's ahead.
But just keep walking forward.

You could hold my hand if you want.
It'll hurt a little bit less if you do. It does.

It does.

Where You'll Find Her

I can't find her.
She's gone off to wherever she goes.
I've looked most places, but no one has seen her for a while.

I know she's still here though.
She'd never leave without saying a goodbye.

Not in a sea of drunk laughter in the kitchen.
Not in the messy half hearted conversations by the door.
Not in the sweaty dance circles in the living room.

I found her.
She was in the bathroom.

She's practicing her smiles.
She's realigning lines of worry.
She's pulling out grey hairs.

She's telling herself it'll all be alright.
She's filling in the forgotten spaces between people.
She's moving through the fading shadows of others.

She's trying her best to stay, but it's hard when she feels out of place.

For now, if you look for the small moments, that's where you'll find her.

I Can't Have Nice Things

Blow out a candle.
Tie some balloons together.
Tell me that today will be wonderful.

For those 2 minutes, you can make me believe that everything is perfect.
I'll think with ease and move with peace.

But the moment will last for only so long, until your cheeks tighten and the smoke clears.

Because I know I woke up from slamming doors.
Because I cower from your mouth still wet with careless venom.
Because I shiver at the thought of those tense years.
Because I can only sleep with the lull of drowsy chords.

Nice things don't come by often.
I know this because they'd never let me hold on.

I Wish the Best for You

I hope you feel loved someday, because I'll try my best to do it now.

It might be selfish to want to be the one you cry to, laugh with, share secrets with. But I know that you'll find other people that will listen to your problems, or sadly brush it off. I know there will be other people you'll tell exciting news to first - and it'll hurt me to know that I can't be the one to be there for you all the time. 

It's alright, sometimes you'll need to be around someone that isn't me. I know that you need a break from me.

I worry you'll get tired of me - that everything will run dry. That you'll disappear to the places that you went off to before I was around. 

I know you well enough to let you go be on your own - because that's what you'd do for me too.

I'm sure you'll be fine, at least that's what I tell myself.

We've taken care of each other for so long that it's second nature. But I'll say it again for old times sake just before we go our own ways.

Please eat well. 

It's easy to fall into your old habits of not eating. It took you so long to admit dark parts to yourself, and I'm so proud of how far you've come. Listen to your body, don't listen to that voice.

Please rest too.

The quietness of the dead of night is so comforting, but books, movies, and TV shows will be there tomorrow for you. Make that cup of tea like I usually do for you, it'll help you sleep.

Please breathe.

One, two, three. Just like we practiced all those years.

Please be safe.

I hope no one hurts you. Though you've been broken, chipped, and taped together - don't mix up your kind heart, generosity, and warmness with the tough skin you've armored up with. One is meant to be taken off once in a while.

Maybe you'll read this later on and scoff, or find something worth while.

Until then, I wish the best for you.

When the Rain Comes Down

When the Rain Comes Down

I hope you find comfort in the sheets of my bed
and in the beats of my heart

The droplets outside slide like silk
slow and calm
elegantly molding with one another
chasing to be part of someone else

The music is faintly echoing in the room
as I brush away your tickling hair on my nose

You press the cold tips of your lips to my collar
searching for warmth
of what was left from last night

I breathe in the dew from the left side of the mattress
not bothered to close the window
as the wind gently ushered rain into the room

Your finger tips draw circles to the back of my spine
smoothing over the ridges of my bones
easing the weight I've carried

I count your eyelashes
a mix of
long and short
curled and straight
but I'm distracted by the warm eyes that look back into mine

Your forehead touches mine
reminding me that you're still here
even when the rain comes down

Freckles

I like how the sun kisses your skin

golden and warm
glowing and flushed with the summer heat

You say that you get hot and sticky

the air is too stuffy
the sweat is too much

but I catch you closing your eyes in the morning
soaking up the day before it starts


I like how the moonlight falls on your cheek

silky and cool
soft and blended with the darkness

You say that the peace and quiet is all you need

the gentle hum of passing cars
the stillness of sleeping birds

but I catch you humming along to the music of my playlist
swaying in my arms like the night before


I like how the constellations move with your freckles

adrift and infinite
adored and unpredictable with the faded rays

You say they look weird in the mirror

the misshapen marks of distant Summers
the inbetweeners of dull specks

but I catch you smiling when I kiss your cheeks
connecting the dots of each freckle with my lips