Last Love Letter

Blooms of passing fancies, Scents of fleeting passion and Petals of brief affairs…

Within our hearts lie a little patch of soil. This foundation for the garden bed of our deepest desires sits buried beneath the soft tissue of our atriums and ventricles in a place so sacred we share it only with those worthy of our truest affections. As children our gardens are bare, and we look to those that we love the most to teach us how to bring flowers to bloom. But as we grow and find our place in this world, we begin to cultivate a space that is uniquely our own.

Some people learn quickly; as though horticulture is ingrained into their DNA. They create nurseries bursting with life or build a bed frame around their plot of dirt, allowing exotic flowers to grow in the empty space where a mattress once was. But some, like me, spend their lives patiently toiling away at an empty plot held together by weather worn timber and rusty nails; determined to grow something more than the florets of a winter’s frost that have settled against the earth.

There have been times when my garden has known the flowers and fragrance of seasonal romance. I have given life to blooms that were never meant to last. For a while now my mind was in absolute chaos, a constant battle of expectation, ego, and at the heart of it, self-rejection. I made my decisions, in darkness, accompanied by fears, doubts and hopelessness. I had been here for so long, that I had accepted that it would never change and I would just have to learn to live with it.

I didn’t realise it then, but as I broke my own heart over and over again, by expecting much from the wrong person- I was preparing myself for something far greater than anything that I had ever known. I have learnt more about how to nurture the florae that blossoms within my chest by committing wholeheartedly to my Self. I have my moments, at times, just a gentle shallow tide, other days an overwhelming swell, doing its best to envelope and drag me out to the deep. On those days, I feel the loneliness but I remind myself that I have to keep pushing forward, mindfully, creating the life I want, the life I believe I’ve always been destined for. I have very few answers. I’m learning to just trust the process as it unfolds. I have faith in who I am, and where I’m heading.

Includes writing credits for
1. Chris Nicholas.
The Renegade Press [Accessed 9 February 2018].
2. Shruti.
SHE’S A SEEKER …of everyday magic. [Accessed 9 February 2018].

Published by Strong Girl

I run entirely on Ambition and putting back my pieces differently

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