When we were children, if things hurt us we would stop

Pricking fingers on roses, desperate to feel its softness, to smell it

We would be curious and we would get hurt and we would learn a lesson from that 

 

But as I've grown older

I've hurt myself further

I've clung to what we were as if I was gripping a rockface in a heavy storm

sometimes the storm wins

 

Everytime I catch your scent I am reminded of the way you looked the day you cried

I've long lost the feeling of release and relief and comfort

since I lost you

and yesterday, I had that feeling again

of utter relaxation like when you come home regardless of how long you've been away

 

After so long of holding my breath I thought I could finally breathe again

except now it feels like I don't have lungs at all

I left so much of myself with you 

because when I was seventeen I fell in love and fell out of it 

all in the same day 

 

 

 

(are you happy now?)