poetry is a funny thing

Poem I just wrote. I was going to write about what this poem means to me, but it think it speaks pretty clearly for itself. Hope ya'll like it. 

You don’t love me like I love you

Maybe you did at one point

In the beginning

When it was new and special and we thought we had all the time in the world

The world was at our feet

We could do whatever we wanted

Be whoever we wanted to be

But the inevitable always happens

Mistakes made, hearts broken, lives shattered

The time you took for granted, the love you believed so fully in

Can never be found again

When the last of your tears is finally brushed away, your body wracked with dry sobs

When there’s no strength to fight, to even get out of bed

When you’re so resigned to brokenness that nothing, or no one, could ever put the pieces back together

When the only person you thought would always be there leaves and never looks back

That’s when it begins.

Life.

It may be imperfect

Scratch that. It’s guaranteed to be imperfect.

But that doesn’t mean there isn’t beauty in the imperfections, in the brokenness

The difficulty is in finding the strength to fight, in picking yourself up and finding the will to live again

Because that’s the point, isn’t it?

The purpose of life isn’t to be happy or successful or loved

The purpose of life is to be alive and living, truly living