It was both easy and arduous—
the simple things always
are. I wanted
to tell you so many things I couldn’t say.
Suffocating in silence,
I bit back words.
Those things left unsaid
are my only regrets.

My mother taught me to rise.
It’s okay to play with fire
so long as you know
how to emerge from the ashes
unscathed.
And so I learned to soar.
She taught me to survive.

Who would’ve thought
a single rose aflame
could set the world on fire?
I burnt it to the ground.
And as this life came crashing down,
I crawled into the next,
never looking back.
She taught me to survive.