This does not have to be a hard life to love. There is not enough time to let it stray too far from my hands.
SCHUYLERThis does not have to be a hard life to love. There is not enough time to let it stray too far from my hands.
SCHUYLERI sit on the bare floor, leave my palms unturned, and watch relief pool into one hand, and uncertainty in the next. I will try not to lean more one way or another, but let them hold each other as company.
SCHUYLERI allow myself to be a weathervane; receive every feeling that greets the shore of me.
SCHUYLERIn a dream, I’m holding you close and when I wake, I do. How lucky, to want and have.
SCHUYLERWe’ve never seen what a happy life could look like if we chose to spend it by ourselves – sharing our beautiful lives with friends, family members, the occasional crush, and lounging out in that quiet space alone as if an idyllic sunned beach.
SCHUYLERI never lose pieces of me, I just gain new understanding.
SCHUYLERYes, this life is mine, but more often I watch it take place and my hands feel too far away to touch it.
SCHUYLERPeople have been washed away by less. I’ll take every step gently. So often, you can’t tell the rush of a riptide until you’re already at sea.
SCHUYLERI’m remembering again, how loneliness has always made me brave.
SCHUYLERI want to wade into the water on the sidewalk, crawl out of this feeling without giving it a name. Take a lighter to love’s sticky edges so its sadness isn’t caught in my throat.
SCHUYLERHow radiant you are, waiting by the window, watching for the sun to grant you more time to dance beneath it. You’ve let yourself dream again. Even if its in bites, even if it’s in a different voice than it used to be.
SCHUYLERChange is not a four letter curse word I once believed it to be.
SCHUYLERI descend into an unopened sky, the ocean floor, the final embrace of a graveyard. Find your fill of me before my blue pales like a sour moon.
SCHUYLERI don’t want to be a saint, I want a love I don’t fight alone to keep.
SCHUYLERI’m choosing to believe things are getting better again. The give and take of joy, remembering a few days of ache does not mean forever.
SCHUYLERI’ll craft a haven that that cradles every joy and sorrow, but doesn’t hold them to keep.
SCHUYLER