Oh, how sweet it is. I’ll allow myself to forget to eat sometimes, when the sunset is too appealing, or when the sunrise is so bright it draws me from sleeping. My hair is as long as my patience for everyone else other than myself. I’m working on it whilst the months are working on me. Renew and release like seasons until I am at peace. In winter I basked open-mouthed under constellations. Clearer than ever in the absence of artificial light were the aspirations of those I love. How sweet it is to see what they can. I traced the words thank you in the sand and waited for the tide to acknowledge. My mother swam in the same water her ancestors crossed to reach Kenyan shores which brought a tear to my eye. I had to wait until we returned before I could understand exactly why. In the summer I shed everything just to see where things would fall. Witnessed by honest eyes, patient words – I know I sometimes make things worse – with untimely clauses, pauses and clumsy words. Autumn came when earthy colours and friends like sisters kept me afloat, but from above I could see the debris.

Sleeve heart, what have you done? Where do I even begin collecting the pieces? Don’t you understand that there is risk in romanticising the everyday because not everyone sees the shape of tree-silhouettes or cloud formations in the same way? Sleeve heart why do you seek life in the most unlikely of places. Why do you see bouquets when others see empty spaces?

I give you nothing

and you grow fruit.

Sleeve heart, you can’t stay here – you have too much to lose.


October came and dutifully I shed everything again and again and again. I became light and unbound and had only myself to sustain. Daunting at first. The elements hurt my new skin. I built wall upon wall, only to tear them down when familiar eyes warmed my heart and welcomed me back here again.

Sure enough the bricks turned to soil and an emerald garden began to grow.

At the first sight of colour, sleeve heart arrived proud, and ever-optimistic. Ready to sow whatever would appear and wear it like a gemstone. ‘Look at what you made here’, she’d say. Allow yourself to step back. Try look at it this way.

It sure is beautiful.

Those scars, they are just new landscapes and well, your fallen hair strands are rivers which will return when your mind is more calm. Spring and sunshine will come soon, I promise, just please try not to hide that heart on your forearm.



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