Your words that day echo in my mind;
they define me; push me, drive my every ambition.
Greater pressure I have never known;
to live up to your expectations;
to live full stop.
Most days, honestly,
I just want it to all be over.
I want the finish line to finally appear.
And the irony of your desperation to extend your own race;
to continue running…
the pain you endured in your short sprint;
None of it is lost on my weary mind.
You were the indefinable;
the exception to all the rules.
I feel so inadequate;
I want to see the colour you apparently saw in me.
I want it to scream from every cell in my body
I want it as a mist about me
to have it be the thing others mention in speaking of me;
I want to open my heart and my mouth
and be the spectrum of colour you saw in me.
I don’t want to wake and wish my days away.
Too many days equal a lifetime
and I do not want to place last in my marathon.
Instead, I want the only glory that now matters;
a vibrant, colourful, living conviction:
To run my race and not crawl it;
to hear you cheering me on out loud at the finish line,
the way I hear you now in my head.