Today, our first anniversary spent alone.
The scent of you lingers on the cold side of my bed.
I can’t explain the duality of loving you and not wanting to hurt.
Knowing what is right and what’s wrong.
A lot of what I say I think gets lost in translation.
I wish there were a way for you to plug into my mind to understand the thoughts that lay beneath my eyes.
I feel like a mountain climber climbing to the top of a plateau in search of a peak that doesn’t exist.
But hopeful as I ever am,
I will pursue expeditions that seem so far impossible to find a space in this life where you and I exist in harmony.

They say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.
That’s a hard feat for someone whose bones are made of glass.
It’s hard to continue with a person that can’t hold onto broken pieces.
The bleeding far outweighs the nostalgia of holding onto what you had for so long.
Do I bring you joy?
Is there space for me?

What I do know is this love for you feels undying.
My twin flame.
Sometimes you have to work twice as hard to keep the fire going.
So close I will get to you even if I get burned in the process.
Blistered fingertips can’t hold me back from what I only know as insurmountable love.
We could either set fire to each other or our spirits.
I guess we won’t know unless we try
Or until the other decides to extinguish what’s left of our tiny flame.

Could you ever find space for my broken pieces?
If so, I think you could make me as a stained glass window.
Something full of cracks that still allows the light in.
I could fill your house full of incandescent light,
A spectrum of rainbow surrounding you.
Find the beautiful in my broken pieces.
Hold me up for display.

We could make each other happy somewhere in this life.