the 1st of august

i’ve got all of the above inside. i am what i am what i am. my own wounds and insecurities placed just above the ribcage. they sing when they are jostled. i try to play dumb, to slice off my cancer. but hey, if this is your heart in your hands, this is mine too. this is my fear, my insecurity, my bundle of complexes. here, here it is, will you hold it in your hands? i am trying to do the things i said i was going to do when i broke up with ceilidh. i told him i needed to come in to myself, to know myself as a single person, as a person unreliant on another. i need to know my own rhythm, to go slowly, to hold space.

let go, let go, let go. keep trying to find your own rhythms. your own life held in your hands. try to hold your own heart. learn how to hold it, how it feels, what it needs. see if you can give it what it needs.
and i think about you girl, my angel. this day, 8 years ago. your life, your light. the prettiest girl in the world. you were joy, and you are love. you give me bravery, when i am scared. i think about you, what you would have done, and then i fucking do it. i leap in to the cold water. you were bravery and beauty and love and all things bright and worth living for. you are always and forever. keep blowing in the wind, dear, keep crashing in the waves. i’ll keep trying to dive in, to be brave and alive and fearless for you.

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sweet one white one, little one in my hands. little fluff, hair windblown. you had so much life, so little fear. so many wandering eyes. so many tiny paths to trod. so many swishing tails to wag. you warmed silently, sweetly. crooned vigorously. sang songs of your own language. you loved fiercely your brother in all things. you courageously hopped when palmer stood. you searched for easter eggs with all the flush of spring wet at your lips. you doused yourself in mud and caroled wildly into the weeds. you were always the one that got caked in soil. you were always the one that steamed ahead – plowing fresh for air and smells and sounds and swarms of grace and gutterworms.

sweet one i will not forget you. you are bold and blue and grey. you are white and you will always be white. bold-boned, warm tongued, freshly-laundered face. black eyes like buoys. like love. like grace. like something solid and serene.

as a puppy you were bright star fire. older now, you are a wash of the sea. you are a slow tide swallowing peace. you are bright. you are bright. you are white, you will always be white.

your body so full and prescient, i hold you now. clever-eared and caring, you let me press my cheek to the wilderness of your hair. to the gaping opal moons that live inside your eyes now.

i stretch my heart around your ribcage, i feel your humble beatings. i press my lungs against your chest, i watch your ragged breathing. i hear you sweet one. i see you too. i’ll be seeing you. where rain meets courage again. i’ll see you always running – sprinting up ahead…some wild fantasy chasing your nose, trilling your senses. again and again and again sprinting towards life, running with courage, i’ll see you.

and i’ll love you here and there and all the moments in between. until i run with you again.