If I had nine lives

I’d spend the first one
learning how to breathe again.
To quiet the panic,
Let the fear loosen its grip,
Instead of pulling me under.
Maybe after I swim to the surface,
I’ll finally find peace and
Won’t be afraid of the ocean.

I’d spend the second one
With my parents;
Just so I don’t mess up lives
Three through nine,
I’ll hold their hands and
Make sure they show me the way.

I’d spend the third one
Falling in love too quickly.
With people who glow like fireflies—
Bright enough to follow,
But never long enough to hold.
With moments that set like the sun—
Beautiful for a moment,
But darkness all too soon.
I’ll confuse attention for devotion and
Learn the hard way
How easily a heart can bruise
When it hasn’t learned its own strength.

I’d spend the fourth one
Trying to fix everything.
My friends’ sadness,
My parents’ fears,
The cracks in the world I barely understand.
I’ll believe it’s my responsibility
To hold everything together

Until the weight of it all finally tells me:
Not everything broken
Is meant to be mended by my hands.

I’d spend the fifth one
Chasing success like it’s salvation—
Grades, trophies, accolades—
Anything that tells me I’m enough.
I’ll run so fast toward who I want to be
That I won’t notice how tired I’ve become.
One night,
I’ll realize the finish line keeps moving.

I’d spend the sixth one
Trying to escape my potential
From the person I’ll always be
And the person I cannot change.
I’ll chase butterflies and birds,
Hoping one day I’ll discover myself.
I’ll linger in the wrong places, people,
And moments.
Before I know it
I’m on my last three lives.

I’d spend the seventh one
Following everyone else;
Work a 9 to 5,
Earn a salary,
Have a white picket fence, a red door,
A well-manicured garden.

I’d spend the eighth one
Writing books,
Living in a small apartment downtown,
Spending my days in a coffee shop
Writing about everything I know I’ll never do.
I’ll raise a cat in my late age,
And he’ll be by my side
As I breathe out one final time
Before life number nine.

I’d spend my final life
Looking for you.

In late-night conversations,

Or lunch time laughs

I’ll wait at bus stops,
Take detours hoping to find something,
Write letters I’ll wait to send—
Watch strangers in memories
I’ll always be hoping for.

Maybe after eight lives I’ll finally
Realize that all of it meant nothing
Without a home to return to

But I don’t have nine lives.