If her childlike
  self was to see
her now what
would
         she think
would
       the shock
freeze
her heart to a
still beat make
her turn & run
       back to the
dream, the
encounter
      shattering
her
     at the seams
as if
   they were two
elements that
could
not exist together
separated by age
      & heartache,
         everything
that had
  changed, blood,
        brain, dna
or would they
embrace,
     reconnect,
      vow to start
again

You are
    memorable
       to me
              and
        I was
          probably
                      just
          another face
                in the crowd
            for you.

freedom can be bare feet
or naked
or laughter
freedom can be poetry

I know it's hard to touch the clouds
when memories
hold you down
I know you cry a lot inside
when no one is
around
I know it is hard to wake up
sometimes
when breathing cuts so deep.

and the birds, they sing
but
you cannot hear
and the sun, it shines
but
you cannot see
and there's a lot of warmth around
but
you cannot feel.

I know it feels so hard
to live
with so many scars

but

light will shine and you will
see
and birds will sing and
you will hear

It's just a dark path
you have to walk
and I will be there
to walk along
don't hold your breath
don't give up yet
just
keep your hope
and you'll find one day
that you can fly again
for you deserve
the highest clouds
the purest air
the deepest love.

and I'll be here for you,
you, dear soul,
the sweetest lyric
of them all.

I sit by the lake,
                                 on the lush green grass,
gently try to break
                                  my inner thoughts,
and silently assimilate
                                 chirping of birds,
rhythmic swaying of trees
                                 by the sweet breeze,
stare at the white cotton clouds
                                 spread on the chimerical blue
and try to soak the pure dew
                    till the morning remains new.

The seasons are finally changing,
and while I didn't expect your heart
to escape,
you fled,
just like you said you would.

Just like I knew you should.

I act like you had a choice;
there was never a word self-spoken
where my loathing manifested itself
as an audible voice.

Rejoice in free will
and affinity
and freedom of choice.

You forced winter to thrive,
but I hate you for thoughts
and an urge
and emotions
where self-hates and reality merge.

You forced winter to thrive,
but where green should arrive,
I am unheard.

You are blooming,
and I am unheard.

They don't believe me.
They don't trust me.
They don't listen.
They think that it's all in my head...
and even if it is,
they're not feeling what I feel.
They don't know,
so how could they possibly help.

I write to…
get out of my head
to rid me of dread
to understand
to be understood

I write…
how I’m feeling
or how I wish I felt
when my words are bad
when they are good

I write and…
it makes perfect sense
or makes no sense at all

I write…
to connect the dots
to find a clue
to get to a better me
to appreciate you

I write...
Because I have to