a letter for me

i wrote myself a letter,

not too long ago.

i can’t remember what it said,

if it was long, like waves

crashing endlessly,

eating up the land,

or as short as the roots

of my newborn flowers,

wilting beneath the soil

with every passing hour.

if tears dripped onto my keyboard

as i punched each key, or if

i simply had nowhere else to be,

and no one else to speak for me.

these words were flightless birds

fluttering around somewhere

in my mind.

i imagine i wrote something

along the lines of;

things get better with time, soon

you’ll find that nothing is permanent,

anger is not forever, nor are tears:

eventually they have to stop falling,

at some point they dry up.

when you stop boiling, the water stops bubbling–

the answer will be staring

back at you.

i’ll be receiving the letter in 8 years;

i’ll be in my early 20’s, who knows where i’ll be.

i like to think i’ll be drinking

my morning tea,

with homemade cookies on the side.

comfortable, happy with my words, with candles filling the room, finally a good cook, yet

far away from being

just a lonely housewife.

i want to be laughing at the letter

i wrote myself all those years ago,

i wish future me could hug herself

from all those words ago.