A Broken Rhyme

 

Dear broken one,

Tonight, you might want to lock the door of your room from inside and put your head in between your knees. I know, you might end up weeping silently so that they don’t know what you’re going through. I know that someone broke your heart today and I’m sorry that I’m not there with you. Tonight, you may want to write down something like a diary entry and a few days later, you may tear it apart.

I know that you’re looking at the dried rose you hid in your favourite book but I want to tell you something important. Every flower withers. Each flower dies. But tonight, pluck its outer petals, you’ll find the petals inside still breathing. That’s you. That’s you who has been rusted and dried because of the harsh realities. Tonight, I want you to shed your outer petals and bring out the ones that are still alive.

You’ve locked that door so that no one comes in, but I want you to look out of the window. Do you see the thunderbolts? Do you see hear the clouds roar? Wait up, you’ll find the heaviest and loudest roaring clouds cry tonight. Each one of us falls on our knees. Each one of us falls apart. Tonight, if you’re falling apart, just remember, the days followed by heavy rains are the brightest and coldest. Tonight you might crumble into little fragments but remember to make each fragment of your beautiful self a lightning tool in the dark sky of midnight. Tonight, I know, sweetheart, your eyes will drop heavy tear droplets. Don’t let it go wasted for I value them as crystals.

I want you to hum your favourite song tonight. Hear yourself, it matters. Open the curtains, don’t shut your windows, let the storm enter your room, yourself. It’s still little less stormy outside than the storm raging inside you. Have you seen the maple leaves? They’re beautiful when they’re up on a tree, and a collectible treasure when they fall. You’re beautiful when you fall and I’m here to pick you up. Before you put your head down again, for once, look up and ask yourself, “Why should I?”. Not all the broken things can be mended, but they all can be valued as they are. The older you get, the more damage you receive, the more precious you become for me.

To say the least, love can happen anywhere, anytime, with anyone; and it can not necessarily be a two way street. The roads that are bumpy are the best for learners like you and me. So wait, love will happen again. Maybe through a page of a diary, a sudden bumping into someone, maybe someday when you let your dried petals fall down and bring the living ones out, or maybe when you let the storms flip your hair and you smile.