Finding Paris

I wish I could have gone to Paris this year. I watched from afar, though, and that's good enough for now. I'll be there for real someday. Soon, I hope.

But even though I wasn't all the way there, Paris still taught me. It taught me that beauty can be found wherever you care enough to look, and that I feel alive when I realize that just maybe I am beautiful, too. 

I learned that being in love is not always a good thing and that all the darkness in the world can be forgotten by just one ray of light. 

In Paris I wandered into places of death and even though I wanted to leave, I stayed because the death reminded me of the value of life. Your life and my life and his life and her life and our life. 

I found out that growing up isn't as glamorous as I was told it was, because when you don't know what comes next, it's really hard to be happy about it.

I realized that drowning in my tears never got me anywhere and that silence isn't always golden but it is precious.

I discovered that the words 'I love you' are the most powerful words ever spoken, along with 'goodbye' and 'thank you.' I learned that I'm not alone even when it feels like I am because Paris is full of people like me who just want to be seen and heard and known.

Paris showed me that poetry can hurt without trying and the scars on my heart are so much more painful than the ones I keep finding on my arms. 

In Paris I watched the rain from the balcony. I thought it was beautiful. And then decided that I'd rather go stand in it, dance in it, shout my spirit to the world in it, and I did and was much happier.

I tried running away from everything that made me feel uncomfortable until I noticed that all my time was spent running. I didn't like that much, but it's hard to face your fears head on and sometimes it hurts, too.

I determined that I would remember the memories and savor the moments because they pass too quickly and are too easy to forget. The memories I miss the most are the ones I've forgotten.

And Paris revealed to me that everyone's Paris is just a little bit different, but everyone has one even if they don't always realize it. Don't miss out. The sun is setting in Paris, but you and me are destined, not to be revered, or to be powerful, but simply to be. Because the sun will rise again.

Before It Ends

Before everything comes to a close
I want to kiss someone in the rain

Before the Earth falls apart
I want to hold hands on the porch while it thunders

Before I travel the endless road
I want to slow dance around the living room

Before the seasons stop changing
I want to go to Venice

Before the darkness reigns
I want to read poetry until I fall asleep

Before the elements vanish
I want to write poetry until I fall asleep

Before ruins are all that remain
I want to lose myself

Before embers float into emptiness
I want to cry until I have no tears left

Before fire and ice collide
I want to watch the lightning together

Before the moon collapses on itself
I want his arms around me as I cry

Before the green dies and the grey is born
I want to sit on the roof and watch the sun set

Before cinders and charcoal dust prevail
I want the wind to carry me

Before the mirrors shatter
I want to talk from dusk until dawn

Before man kills God
I want Him to heal me

Before the stars plummet into the sea
I want to hold you while snow falls around us

Before the clouds disintegrate into ash
I want to watch the stars on a warm summer night

Before the sky falls and the sun explodes
I want to smell the rain falling at night

Before it all ends
I want to be loved

In the Dark: Part II of Voices

In the dark, I leaned my head against the glass. I wanted to break it. I wanted to feel close to you. But I've never felt so far away because that glass was harder than steel. 

In the dark, I tried to hear you breathing, wondered if our hearts beat in sync. There were less than inches between us, closer than we'd ever been, yet I felt as though we'd never been further apart. 

In the dark, you found me and held me. With your arms around me, I felt safe, but it wasn't real. It was just another one of my fantasies. 

Still in the dark, I pretend I hear your voice calling my name. I know I'm deluding myself, but I answer back anyway.

I lose track of time and space and light as I sit silently, helpless to stop the invisible spiders from crawling up my back and filling me with desperate terror.

I lie awake at night and wish that I could see the stars, but there's a ceiling there instead.

In the dark for too long, I'm trying to find some light, even a flash of lightning. 

But after spending too long in the darkness, the light hurts.

So I'm still in the dark.

Light: Part I of Elysium

It's hard to find the light these days. 

Even though it's been a year and a half, I still use the peppermint soap that smells like Christmas and heartbreak because heaven needed an angel but it had to be her. I don't think heaven needs any more angels for a while. I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes, suspended on my lashes as they decide whether or not to fall, but nothing gold can stay and she was more golden than most.

And they fall. The salt of my tears stings my eyes, but it's a good kind of pain.

I'll never forget when I laid on her bed and fell asleep to the sound of her voice. I wish I'd gotten the chance to say goodbye. No, I had the chance. I wish I'd taken it.

Nine days later I was away from home and I smelled the lotion she always used. I almost started crying right there in the middle of Bath & Body Works. 

Last week I stepped into her room for the first time since she died. Even though there was still the blue and white bedspread, and the television, and the wooden board with the family birthdays written on it, it was empty because there was a wheelchair in the corner and the pillow my sister made for her was still lying on the bed. It felt like no one had been there in a while. The clock hasn't even been changed back to daylight standard time. I couldn't help my tears. I put some of that lotion on, too. It's still in the same spot on the counter in the kitchen. I don't think he has the heart to move it. It would feel like letting her go.

Every time I read the book she gave me I feel a little bit closer to her and to heaven because it's from 1937 and it smells like old pages and years of love. At least I kept the birthday cards from every year, so I won't forget how her spidery handwriting looked. I'm afraid I'm already forgetting the sound of her voice.

I went for a drive and turned up the music so I wouldn't have to think, because thinking means feeling and my heart is battered enough already, but turning the music up just made it worse. And I didn't want to go home but eventually I did.

If I were to die today, I would visit each of my friends and tell them how much they mean to me. I would take my family out to dinner and tell them I didn't really mean to go so soon. I would let them know that as hard as it sometimes is to believe, I really do love them. But in the end, I would drive to the overlook and watch as it got dark, and I would look out at the valley for as long as I could. And then at last I would join her and all the other angels I hope are waiting for me. 

Maybe there's some light after all.