i used to write about scars i can't see anymore,
i would tear open and salt wounds in hopes of a piece that i could but would never fully be proud of.
these pieces i wrote held me down and made my feet drag throughout these hallways and,
i'm not doing that anymore.
i'm starting to remember who i was at birth,
who i am when i'm in my happiest state and not even my demons can drag me back down to the hell i used to light.
i love,
and i smile.
i used to write so much about who i used to be that i started to miss it when i couldn't write anymore.
my mind lived at more than four years back,
i relived my darkest days over and over when i couldn't see the sun in the morning.
i'm not doing that anymore.
last year, i lost my best friend,
my favorite person in this entire world,
my sun and my moon and my stars,
i believed the earth spun for him and solely him and i still do.
losing him made me lose my hope.
and for that time,
there were more dark days.
there were fresh wounds and igloos made of tissues and blankets.
i will miss him forever but i will live in his honor.
i'm holding my head up high and i will love and admire the earth until i meet my Everything again.
i used to write about the bad days,
the cloudy days,
the days where i cried on my bedroom floor,
the days where i burst out in tears during a normal day in class because i just couldn't do This anymore.
i'm not doing that anymore.
i've learned and seen how beautiful this world can be.

just two kids
riddled with anxiety and depression
finding comfort in each other
loving each other
stumbling through life
hoping to make it out
alive

she gave me her nudes
she was bare
and naked
and so out
and open
and i willingly
accepted it
because it wasnt the nudes
that showed her body
the physical aspects
that made her beautiful
it was the words
she didnt choose
and the spontaneity
that left her
either from her lips
or her fingers
or ink

she was as bare
as her nudes
and i accepted
her for her.