Murals Drawn When Letting Go

Dear Pine cone,

How do people easily let go?

How am I a discarded bag floating in the wind

To every boy I have ever loved?

Do you feel the rawness in the truths

That are difficult to swallow like I do?

Going insane trying to find anyone who cares

While self absorption is rampant.

Sometimes I walk where the curb ends

And I think I am happier gripping on

To my aloneness.

I fell so far from the stars. I tried to claw my way back

Not realizing I am composed of star dust.

What’s the point of letting go,

When nothingness is all there ever was

Between you and all the boys you ever loved?

Your friend,

Pine needle.

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