Here's to...

Someday you will run, not AWAY, but TO...

Here's to the times you wished for rain so you could cry unnoticed, for the train to rumble by so no one would hear your heart shatter, and for the day to be over so you could crawl back into bed and sleep your sadness away.

Here's to all the emails and photos you deleted, the text messages you didn't read, and the calls you ignored; every single one a reminder of a life you once had and loved.

Here's to the words you wished were not spoken and those you hoped were; each one a knife that cut you open, over and over with every remembering.

Here's to the days you lost yourself, the hours you wish you could take back; every conversation like fingernails on a chalkboard, every memory an attack.

Here's to you and all your tears, all the empty promises, regrets, and fears; all of the accusations and sarcastic comments, the bored responses and yawns; each one a wound over scars that have not completely healed.

Here's to the moment you find peace within your storm; that day you find the faith to let go and the strength to move on; because though it's difficult to believe it now, you will be okay... someday soon.

So...

Here's to the times you'd wish for rain so you could frolic and dance... this time in joy, for the train to rumble by so no one would notice your heart flutter and skip a beat, and for the day to be over so you could crawl back into bed and sleep in the warm embrace of somebody who found the treasure in you... and cherished it.

Here's to all the emails you'd re-read and photos you'd turn into charming collages, the text messages you'd archive on your phone, and the calls you'd anticipate; every single one a potent prompt of a life that has yet to be lived in love.

Here's to the words you'd one day speak out and those you'd one day take in; each one a stitch that would sew you back together, making you whole with every exchange.

Here's to the day when you find yourself anew, the hours you'd wish would last longer than they do; every conversation like steps on a ladder taking you higher, every possibility an adventure.

Here's to you and all your upcoming years, all the promises waiting to be fulfilled, moments that have yet to be relished, and joys that have yet to be savored; all the encouragement and romantic comments, the flirty responses and jokes; each one a salve over wounds that have almost completely healed.

Here's to the moment you realize that your world really didn't end: it has merely found a second start; that instance when you find the faith to step back into the vibrancy of life and the strength to boldly dream again, hope again, love again; because someday soon you'll raise a glass amidst the people who love you and whom you love and say, "Here's to a life well-lived!"



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Thanks to Michael for the heaping spoonful of love that he added to this poem--the second half that's brimming with hope and possibility. The version I wrote was struggling to come out from under a heavy rain cloud but he helped it break through with a song.