Hope

I hope you find a love that heals.

The one that will make you the right kind of coffee, just the way you like it. Then early mornings will be a little less cold with the comfort of a person who knows the bitter things you've been and sifts through them to find the distinct aroma of your truths. Someone who'll understand the intensity of warmth that you need, the accurate temperament that brings you peace, careful not to burn your tongue with the fire that almost always consumes you.

The one who knows how to listen to your silence, to the words waiting to be deciphered on the stillness of your breaths. Then you don't have to transcribe your pain into music sheets and sing it into a universal language that the world could understand. Because he recognizes when the rhythm of your heart was of battle cries or if it echoes timeless odes for the living. Someone who comprehends the abstract poetries you wrote on random scratch papers in moments of despair and tells you, that they were beautiful still even if all the metaphors confess the same war over and over again.

The one who may not nake you want to live but makes you see that life is not so bad anyway. Then the idea of going through the aching process of recovery will not be as suffocating as it had seemed; ripping off the rotten band-aids, opening the scars once again to cleanse your body of the things you were afraid to face. Someone who doesn't rush you in finding yourself again, patient on stitching back the wounded skin of your soul, willing to wander on the complexity of your hidden wonderlands.

And then maybe, we'll finally be able to take our time in fixing ourselves that we don't have to be the storms that destroy the people we love.