Sparks of Phoenix Read online

You light the fire in front of me

  and then you blame me for playing with it.

  Don’t tell me that you love me

  and then blame me for falling in love

  with you.

  I want to complain to you

  about you.

  I want to cry to you

  about you.

  Perhaps the you who I loved

  can tell the you who left

  to come back home.

  You say you want

  a good woman,

  and here I am

  standing in front of you

  with goodness pouring

  out of my soul,

  yet you see right through me

  as if I don’t exist.

  You say you want

  a faithful woman,

  and here I am

  with commitment beaming

  out of my eyes,

  yet you look right past me

  as if you don’t care

  about honesty.

  You say you want

  a woman who loves you

  for who you are,

  and here I am with love

  spilling from my heart

  for you.

  Yet you no longer look at me.

  It’s as though the beauty of my soul

  has expired

  and it’s time for you to find

  a new woman

  while I sit here and wonder

  what it is about me that

  you once thought was magic

  and you now see as a

  dusty antique

  that you no longer wish

  to marvel at,

  crave,

  or touch.

  Rejection hurts

  even if it’s from someone

  you no longer want.

  A knife in your heart

  hurts no less

  if you don’t want it there.

  I do not want you to apologize.

  I do not want you to be sorry that

  I felt that way.

  I want you to be sorry for

  what you did.

  To feel sorry for

  making me feel

  the way that you did.

  When home doesn’t feel like home:

  I drive around in circles

  hoping to get to a destination—

  one where I would be happy.

  The right place.

  The right time.

  But it seems so impossible.

  Where I leave from and

  where I arrive

  feel the same.

  The ones who are supposed to

  love you

  don’t love you.

  So you run to those who

  were never supposed to love you

  but tend to love

  people like you

  who need love

  so they can be loved in return.

  Because those who were supposed to

  love them

  did not love them either.

  It’s been awhile

  since I finally accepted

  the end.

  But my heart still aches

  every time I think

  of how we ended.

  And if I could go back,

  I wish I could tell you:

  I stayed for so long,

  not because I was weak

  but because I believed

  in the good person in you.

  I left, not because

  you stopped wanting me

  but because I no longer

  loved myself by loving you.

  You are so hurt

  but so kind.

  You can’t even tell them

  “You hurt me.”

  You worry about

  hurting their feelings

  by telling them

  that they hurt you.

  How beautiful

  is that kindness pouring

  out of you?

  I am so tired of

  carrying this pain

  that was never mine

  in the first place.

  Always give love.

  Always be kind.

  Always give your best.

  If the world hurts

  you

  because of that,

  know that

  you

  are creating a better world.

  The world sees that

  you are in pain

  and says:

  Let me give you a little more.

  You’ve handled this much.

  You can handle a bit more.

  I don’t have to look like

  I’m in pain

  for me to be

  in pain.

  Your friends will say:

  “I miss you.”

  You’ll say:

  “I miss me too.”

  I was telling them

  that I was in pain

  without telling them.

  I was hoping they would see

  my wings turn into ashes.

  I was hoping

  they would wonder why the fire

  that was once in my eyes

  was now burning

  the life

  out of me.

  They want to know

  why you’re feeling sad,

  but when you finally speak,

  they make you wish

  that you never spoke.

  I come to the coffee shop

  when I have no one to meet,

  and I sip on my coffee

  slowly.

  I look out the window

  waiting for no one to come,

  slowly.

  I can’t remember when

  I stopped waiting for

  someone.

  And I can’t remember when

  I started finding love

  in my pen and paper,

  in the lipstick stain on

  the rim of my coffee cup.

  I can’t remember when

  I started finding love in myself

  and stopped waiting to find it

  in someone else.

  You’re not the only one

  who’s not happy.

  Trust me.

  All you see is what you want

  but don’t have.

  People like you are hiding

  behind smiles,

  pretending to be happy

  while they’re wondering

  why they don’t have what

  others have,

  just like you are.

  Some hearts ache from holding

  too much hatred.

  Mine aches from holding

  too much love.

  You may not see them suffer

  like they made you suffer.

  But believe me,

  their biggest punishment

  is that they are who they are.

  Your heart might be in pain right now,

  but it will heal.

  It will heal.

  You will heal.

  I don’t even know

  what I want anymore.

  I want love,

  but not just anyone’s love.

  And men fall for me

  like dead leaves in autumn.

  I want them to fall

  for me,

  but I don’t want to catch them.

  I don’t want

  them.

  Is it fear?

&n
bsp; Or is it me wanting to know

  what it feels like to have someone

  fall off a cliff

  flat on their face

  as I once did for someone

  who enjoyed watching me fall

  only to walk away

  the moment I hit the ground?

  The moment that my soul shattered

  and I was no longer

  the person

  I used to be?

  A man I barely knew

  looked at the tears

  that built a home in my eyes

  and said:

  “Your soul is too beautiful

  for you to cry.”

  That’s when my tears

  escaped my eyes

  and I said:

  “How will my soul be pure

  if I don’t cleanse

  the pain with my tears?”

  I just want to breathe,

  and I am gasping for air,

  but my lungs feel too small.

  I guess that is what happens when

  your lungs enter

  survival mode—

  they breathe only as much

  as they need

  to stay alive.

  This air that wants to

  enter you

  and this love that wants to enter you

  have no room to stay inside of you.

  That’s why it’s so hard

  for you to accept

  new love.

  It’s too much to handle.

  Your insides have been

  the home of abuse

  for so long

  that love hurts

  as it enters.

  The parts of me

  that want to care

  are too hurt

  to even pretend to care.

  I feel that I am on the verge

  of disappearing,

  of surrendering into nothingness,

  of accepting that I am worth

  absolutely nothing

  and that I deserve what happened to me.

  And everything that it did to me.

  I have no power.

  Where do I get it from?

  I am broken

  beyond repair.

  There is no going back

  to the person I was before.

  There is rebirth,

  rebuilding,

  reinventing,

  and soul stitching

  with gold

  that needs to happen.

  Your sensitivity is not a sign of weakness. Your sensitivity makes you beautiful. It makes you unique. You see, we live in a world where it’s easier to pretend that you don’t feel, and if you dare express that you feel, you become an easy target to be picked on and hurt. So, from a young age, you’re taught that strength means hiding how you feel, or not expressing your feelings at all. I want you to ask yourself, if you don’t feel, how can you truly love? If you don’t feel, how can you empathize with the tragedies happening in the world? If you are sensitive to being disrespected, it means that you will not disrespect others because you know how it feels to be disrespected. If you are sensitive to being ignored or lied to, you will not ignore or lie to others because you know how it feels to be ignored and lied to. Promise yourself from today to be at peace with your sensitivity. Instead of trying to hide it, cherish it.

  The one who broke you

  cannot heal you.

  Sometimes

  we, the fixers,

  need fixing too.

  Sometimes

  we, the givers,

  need gifts too.

  Your heart broke

  in pieces.

  It will heal

  in pieces

  too.

  A voice from within me

  roars

  and lifts me

  from the rubble

  that I’ve become.

  It lifts me from this darkness

  I’ve been in for far too long.

  It reminds me that my eyes

  have adapted to the dark

  but there is so much more for me to see.

  Even when it feels like the end,

  it’s not the end.

  You are bigger than

  what’s pulling you down.

  Shake the ashes

  off your wings and

  rise.

  Fly.

  Soar.

  When they make the mistake

  and you have to apologize,

  know that there is a problem

  and walk away.

  What turns into

  hatred

  was never

  love.

  The world took care of me when

  I believed that I didn’t deserve

  to be cared for.

  An end

  does not have to be

  the end.

  Give your heart time to heal.

  The poison of pain took time to enter.

  It will take time to leave.

  It’s okay for you

  to be angry about

  what happened to you.

  Just don’t let your anger

  make you like the one

  who broke you.

  Stay true to yourself.

  Just as you need to

  own your pain,

  you need to

  own your healing.

  Just because they took advantage

  of your kindness,

  you do not

  blame your kindness

  for the pain.

  Your kindness

  is not weakness.

  Their taking advantage

  of your kindness

  is weakness.

  It’s easier for them to believe

  that something is wrong with you

  than it is for them to believe

  that something wrong happened to you.

  You are only a threat to

  those who don’t believe in

  their

  own worth.

  You are bigger than

  the place that did not welcome you.

  The person who rejected you.

  The humans who did not value you.

  You are bigger.

  Don’t lose yourself

  looking for love inside

  of someone else.

  If you lose yourself,

  no one else’s love will

  make you feel whole or

  found or

  home.

  My home will never welcome me

  if I don’t welcome myself.

  Your biggest loss was me.

  My biggest loss was me.

  There is no going back

  to the moments when you fell in love

  with me.

  You can never

  unscar me.

  The damage is done.

  I must love my new self.

  My scars are witnesses

  that I never gave up.

  You fell out of love

  with me

  so the world

  could fall in love with me.

  What they did to you will never

  be okay.

  But you will be.

  Forgiving them frees you,

  not them.

  You will stay

  in ashes

  if you base your rising

  on their apology.

  If I am not worth your apo
logy,

  you are not worth me carrying

  the pain that you caused me.

  So I will forgive you, not for you

  but for me.

  I deserve to let go.

  I deserve to be free of your pain.

  And if you

  can’t admit your own mistakes,

  I will not allow the ashes that your pain

  turned me into

  to hold me hostage.

  Don’t forgive them because

  you have to

  but because you want to.

  And don’t forgive them when

  you have to

  but when you are ready.

  You can’t erase

  what happened to you,

  but you can choose

  to put it behind you,

  under your feet,

  and rise like

  the hero you are.

  You owe it to the glory within you

  to become so much more

  than who

  they

  want

  you

  to be.

  The reason is coming.

  Don’t wait.

  You’ll slow down

  its arrival

  if you do.

  There is a heart inside of you

  waiting to be loved by you.

  Don’t let it down.

  Don’t let yourself down.

  You will never heal from a pain

  that you don’t admit you have.

  You will never heal from a pain

  that you don’t

  allow yourself to feel.

  Give yourself approval before

  you expect it from someone

  else.

  I sat down with my words.

  I wanted to write about you

  just once more.

  My words revolted.

  They refused to help.

  They abandoned me,

  just as you did.

  And just as I chased after

  what I thought was left of

  us,

  I chased after them.

  My words told me

  that they no longer wanted

  to be about you.

  They said

  it was a disgrace for them