i am afraid of
losing loved ones
and being alone in the dark,
but mostly,
i am afraid of being
merely tolerated
when i want so badly to be loved.

Is this what writers do?
Lure their readers to a false sense of security?

You know that I'm in love with you.
So you, with insincerity, play my heart strings like poetry.

But the boy told the girl,
“I will always protect you.”
And, for the first time,
She believed him.

The boy told the girl,
“You are special.”
And, for the first time,
She believed him.

The boy told the girl,
“Your soul is made of pure gold.”
And, for the first time,
She believed him.

The boy told the girl,
“I love you.”
And, for the first time,
She believed him.

The dirt shifts under me,
My head laying back into the soft ground.
Situated on a small patch of brown,
Isolated from the world of flowers surrounding me.

It’s dark where I lay,
From here I can see the moon.
Bright and colourful resides outside of my patch,
Despite the trees in the suns wake.

I lift my arm to the sky,
Reaching for the moon.
A tattoo across my wrist formed by a fine blade,
reveals a sea of red from my outstretched palm.

My vision blurs and the world hazes,
I reach to pull the moon away and reveal the sun.
But the thatch work above me holts my progress,
Beneath it I am never to see the sky.

I long to breach this sky of branches...

I wondered if he knew that my soul danced whenever he'd bite his lip and call me his girl
That the concept of myself being his in his head the made sweat form on my collar bones
That the very suggestion that other girls were just labeled other girls but I wore the label of 'his'
Meant that flowers could bloom and die, the sun could set and rise, the wind could blow and subside, but still within and outside
He was mine...