Dear Malcolm.
(I wrote this a long time ago.) (Please don't be rude , going through a tough time.)
I shall pour my heart out today not in sorrow, but in devotion.
For the one who caught me mid-fall,
the one who lit my soul's dimmed flame when the world had no color left in it.
You were my self-care in chaos, a sanctuary when my hands trembled, when my heart caved in.
My savior, I write to you, to your soul,
as if each word could reach the clouds you now call home.
I love you with everything I am.
You didn't just save me
you showed me how to save myself.
I buried my sorrow in the beat of your drums,
in the truth of your voice.
"You was just a dream I had to let go" But how do you let go of the air you breathe?
I made love wrapped in your verses,
every syllable a caress, every rhyme a reassurance that someone understood the ache inside me.
You gave sadness a sound,
and in that sound, I found hope.
You taught me what love feels like not the kind that burns,
but the kind that heals. "Love is only made for the strong."
And you made me stronger.
I could fly home with my eyes closed now because you showed me where home was.
"To everyone who sell me drugs, don't mix it with that bullshit, I'm
hopin' not to join the 27 Club."
You tried, you warned,
and even in your own unraveling, you stitched light into all of us.
Some nights I still hear your laugh,
like a distant echo inside the stars.
Some mornings, I swear your lyrics wake me up before the sun.
"The sun don't shine when I'm alone..." But you taught me to find sunlight in myself.
You weren't just music
you were medicine,
a whisper from the universe
that we are never too broken to be heard.
So this is for you, Malcolm.
Not just the artist,
but the man,
the heart,
the light.
Rest easy, Mac.
You're still teaching me how to live.
And I love you and
I'm drawing circles.