poetry ☾

How lucky I am to be alive.

I find beauty in the way I cry,
how my breath catches and won’t behave,
how my body folds inward
like it is afraid I might leave.
Even the ache feels honest.

I find beauty in happiness too,
in how everything seems to stop
when it reaches me.
Like the world is saying,
yes, this is real, and it is everything.

How lucky I am
to want this much.
To feel longing sit heavy in my chest
and not push it away.
To know that wanting means
I am still open.

How lucky I am
to feel everything this deeply.
To be wrecked by love
and still believe in it.

I don’t move through life untouched.
I bruise.
I break.
I care more than I should.

But even that feels beautiful,
because it means I was here,
feeling it all,
and somehow still choosing to stay.

How lucky I am to be alive.