Seven Years

Photo: Unsplash

I once read a piece about cell turnover periods in the human body that ended up inspiring this specific poem. I have seen a lot of people use this piece of information to write poetry, mostly about losing a loved one and the flesh memories of them. While that is how this poem started, I wanted to approach it with the mindset of self-love that in seven years my brain could be a little bit kinder to itself especially in a world where we see more and more people openly talk about their mental health. It sounds nerdy to admit but when I wrote this poem at 17 I use to say to myself “maybe this year the parts of your brain that don’t like itself will turn over this year and they will be kinder” (and to the 17-year-old me who wrote this; yes they are).

Seven Years

I read that every cell in our entire body gets replaced every seven years

I don’t know how true that may be but it is comforting to think that one day;

My hands will no longer remember being held by yours or how it felt when you would write your name into my palms over and over again when you were bored.

That my lips will no longer remember the touch of yours against them with the lingering taste of mint and cherries.

But what’s the most comforting thought of all

 is that maybe in seven years,

 My mind will no longer be a warzone but a field of daisies.

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