What Came After

I found this buried in my Facebook Notes. The poem itself I wrote for a friend. The first part I have no idea why I wrote, but I'll keep it, since it's an original artifact. It's what I'm thinking most of the time.

What Came After

No one wants to read your melodramatic poetry with the awkward diction and nature metaphors. Also it's not very good; you've really been sucking at this lately. It's too personal to post. Everyone says "be honest," but no one actually thinks you should do that. It's like saying "we should hang out sometime." Oversharing is weird and only works in the movies. Don't do it don't do it don't do it.

You have to leave,

and I have to stand here and watch your heart break open.

I had to leave once,

so I too have leaned over that chasm.

And you're going to fall in, you know.

Somewhere between saying goodbye to your mother

and resigning yourself to never having spoken what was truly inside you,

your heart's going to turn into an open wound,

and I have to stand here and let you take it.

So in my heart I give you the sunrise in Alaska,

the sunset around the pier,

that May morning overflowing with resurrection.

I give you all of my What Came After,

all of the solace that healed me.

I will to you all of the undeserved beauty 

that taught me in the end

that it was worth it.

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