Dear Current Me (hour 11)

Dear me,

Once, you had cotton candy princess hair.

You had butterflies in your tummy and
noble intentions made your heart beat.
You had a soft voice, giggly laugh, and couldn’t
ever remember where you put your phone.

Music was your oxygen.
Poetry was the only language you understood.
You lived for books and learning and silence.

Now, you have a cotton candy heart.

You have moths in your stomach and
bitter outlooks block your aorta,
You have a hard voice, RBF, and can’t seem
to let your Iphone out of your hand long enough for it to cool.

Music brings the tears, so it’s better not to breathe.
Poetry is the only way to cover scars.
You live to sleep now and search for friendly faces and
you always look for the exit before you sit down.

Your soul was pretty, pink bubbles and glitter and hope.
Now, it’s hardened stone, just waiting to be rolled away.

I hope for our sake, you get better.
Breath some music and eat some words.
You can’t be this numb forever.


2 thoughts on “Dear Current Me (hour 11)

  1. I like how you turned the prompt around to be a letter to you now, reminding you of who you once were – the descriptions of who you were before being turned upside down and inside out to describe who you are now. Clever and poignant! Yes – ‘Breath some music and eat some words.’

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