Poem 57

PicMonkey Collage

To June,

Oh, how it must be strange to find a letter addressed to you by you. Hear me out.

Dear my dearest confidante, lightweight and free, living through the day by day with mismatched socks and unlaced shoes. Never have you cared about the eyes that watched your every move and neither did you pay attention to the words that could not accept you for who you are. That’s what made you. You were the wish whispered quietly in the air at every blow of a candle on my birthday cake for every year I grew one year older. And you were the hopes carried out into the sky and back down to Earth by the dandelions flying and dancing in the air like little floral ballerinas. You were the dream.

You were everything made from purity and truth that was all too unique. You twirl and giggle when it rains, splashing on puddles without a care. You were not the bad apple that rolled too far from it’s tree. And nothing could¬†hinder or block your way. A set mind is an accomplished mind. You took the path I was afraid to even acknowledge. You were perfection.

The world let you bloom into this beautiful adult, smiling and happy even during times of difficulty like it didn’t even phase you. Your hands never grew too cold nor did you ever shed a tear of complete and utter unhappiness of which you never let surround you in the first place. You laugh and curl your lips with ecstasy. You throw your arms into the air, feeling the sun shine down on you, letting the blessings of your present life wash over your body like holy water made of air. You open your heart out to the world full of pain, but not consumed. And that was what made you. You were a soul free from life’s restraints.

You were the me that couldn’t exist.


*thanks to:¬†http://storybook-magic.tumblr.com/ for the photos. I couldn’t remember who the photographs were made by so, I can only link you here. The blog does have credits, I just have to find them again.

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1 Comment

  1. […] So, this goes back to a recent post. It’s okay to fall. Someday, maybe not soon, I will be the dream. […]

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