This side of paradise 

 Dear You…

The one on the limb 

The one on the brink 

The one in the empty room 

Where love went to die 

Where you first realised 

That lips don’t always taste like wine 

And touches turn to bruises and 

Hidden Ice packs in the back of the fridge 

For you 

Maybe it’s different 

Maybe it’s the same 

Maybe Fitzgeralds words…

“We are meant to lose the ones we love,how else would we know what they mean to us?” 

Means something entirely different to you? 

Maybe it just means …

“How else would we know we were living in fiction” 

Dear you…

You will paint again 

You will write again 

You are still you 

You are still whole 

Your voice will not betray you

And you will catch the rain 

And you will recognise it’s colours 

In the way that is your way 

How do I know?

The history teacher knows 

Forcing societies into 

Standards and appearances 

Is slavery and not “civilised”

Just like the librarian knows…

You can’t change your spouse 

And the man at the hospital 

From the accident knows …

Your politician 

Your father 

Your pastor 

Your church 

Isn’t your mediator …

You are only responsible for you

It doesn’t matter 

What everyone else is doing 

Or what this looks like

You are still whole  

Maybe a little different 

But 

You are the only …

(Out of all the faces)

The only -You.

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