In the process of growing
There is pain
Not the kind that comes with falling
But the kind that comes with
Letting a little part of yourself die
Sealing and sending a letter
That you can’t have back
You wrote it, yet you cannot claim it
Once it leaves and moves on
Like you, too, left and moved on
In the process of growing
I walk two lives
The one that I lived, a life that I loved
And the one that I live, the one that I love
Yet neither are mine forever
Not unlike people, not unlike letters
You meet them, write them, but
They too must leave, move and die
Life in the context of death
And pain in the process of growing
