My Silhouette (You are Enough)
Just because you’ve left doesn’t mean you’re better.
I know you grew up hazy and sleep soft, a girl who could get lost on the breeze. Saw faeries in forests, friends in place of monsters beneath your bed. I can easily picture you speaking to them, whispering your favourite memories and warmest wishes, how you longed for romance and the sunshine that would bloom in your chest if only someone would someday take your hand and lead you into forever. I know you always loved in earnest, big and bright, heart beating hummingbird fast in a delicate chest. More dream than person, everything you wanted from the world both soft and never ending.
You grew up glutted on the wonderful possibilities of fairytales and people’s good intentions, and I am sorry you weren’t given even half of what you deserved. Sometimes it makes me sick when you crack yourself open to the hurt you’ve buried so deep you can ignore it until you’re drowning. Us talking until four in the morning of the people that ripped you open to something raw and vulnerable and still found you wanting instead of perfect.
Because to me, somehow, no matter what life threw at you, you’re still that little girl I imagine, burdened with wide eyes and sticky fingers and endless curiosity. You never grew bitter. Never grew cold.
