Dear You

Dear you,

Don’t let your bones be a mixture of anger and marrow.

Don’t let your mouth sing its song everyday.

Don’t let it consume you

Dont let it fuel your dreams.

Dear you,

Don’t treat your heart like a public space.

Dont let everyone sit and marvel at its walls.

It holds your joy.

And your joy is precious gold.

Dear you,

Don’t get used to sadness.

Don’t think of it as your favourite chair feeling out of place if you are not in it.

Pain is not comfortable

It’s only numbing.

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Definitions

​Depression tastes like wine left out in the open.

Frustration is like drowning in your blood, sweat and tears, on land.

Grief is all the almosts, could haves and should haves you cradle.

Anger is more like a storm; always leaves you wondering if its all necessary.

Happiness is said to be a baby’s laugh but I think it’s sitting in the afternoon sun and not asking why.

Loss is inevitable, almost anticipated, but still shocking.

Loneliness is comfortable. It makes you go to parties and find a solitary corner in the backyard. Its a darkness your eyes know.
Lust and rust are the same, it corrodes the soul.
Love is why we hurt. And hate with a passion that can burn the world and freeze the oceans.