Love Letter to the Old Me

I am glad that I cry less

I am glad that I worry less

I miss the young girl with wild dreams, but

I miss the intense emotions pouring out

Sure, I am kinder now and surely much wiser

But, what about the pure passionate tears pouring from her

She would scream out her fears and also ring with laughter

I hesitate now and laugh quieter

Unlike me, she held inside,

A storm of ideas and was not so dead

I cannot feel as much nor can I care so much

I miss the fiesty fire, deep hurt regardless

I am glad for my mind is clear and cluttered less

There was beauty in the chaotic mess, though

And I shall remember her with much love