fragments of a future

tw: allusions to suicide and self-harm

two years ago, i cradled shattered stars

in my hands and traced their sharp edges

with my soft fingers. i thought about how soft

people are, how delicate we truly are.

i thought about how easy it would be

to take myself apart if i actually tried.

ripping apart flesh like eating a grapefruit,

letting the bitter juice drop down to my elbows.

i used to think of myself like a whisper,

an echo heard then forgotten,

swept up and away in the wind between

the tall apartments and blinking lights.

two years ago, i made fragments of my future,

nightmares woven into my breaths,

and a plea for infinity to become finite

hidden between chapped cherry lips.

two days ago, i cradled my friend’s face

in my hands and traced her cheeks

with my soft fingers. i thought about how soft

people are, how delicate we truly are.

i thought about how easy it would be

to take others apart if i really wanted to.

i rip apart an orange, offer the flesh to a friend,

letting the sweet juice drop down to my elbows.

i think of myself like a poem, quiet still,

but persevering. let me be a gentle summer breeze,

let me be words that you tattoo on soft skin,

let me live forever through the winds.

two days ago, i dreamt of fragments in my future,

hope woven into my breaths,

and a wish for finiteness to become forever

unconcealed behind a smile.