Take care of yourself by choosing to heal
and stop desperately searching for missing links.
It’s okay to finally open the gates and let yourself feel
because loving yourself might be easier than you think.

Cook yourself your all-time favorite meal
or spend the extra twenty minutes soaking in the bathtub.
Paint your nails your favorite shade of teal
and start building your collection of movie ticket stubs.

Run in the neighborhood until your legs start shaking,
jam out to Brian May’s guitar and Freddie Mercury’s voice,
or dive into a Nicholas Sparks novel so heartbreaking
that it almost makes you wonder if you made the right choice.

Let people in without worrying about when they’ll leave
and laugh without hesitation and smile like never before.
Make an appointment for an addition to that tattoo sleeve
and plan a weekend getaway to the nearest sea shore.

Catch up on your favorite television shows
while holding a pint of Pecan Praline Ice Cream.
Dance with strangers until all of the bars close
with tequila pulsing through your bloodstream.

The beauty behind self-nurture and self-care
is that you end up pulling happiness from within.
At the end of the day, instead of seeking comfort elsewhere,
you’ll finally feel loved and be comfortable in your own skin.

I’m the queen of self-destruction
watching each bridge go up in flames.
A basket case of pure dysfunction
torturing others with my childish games.

I’m the perfect psychological warfare
collecting broken hearts along the way.
A gorgeously horrifying nightmare
waiting for my next vulnerable prey.

I'm the monster you lured into light
after you showed me how worthless I am.
A poisonous snake ready to bite
leaving ****** ring fingers in the sand.

I’m the swinging wrecking ball
destroying everything I can see.
A broken mess on a spiraling fall
after loving you nearly killed me.

She was a woman of many disguises
with social masks of all shapes and sizes.
Certain groups called for  a different her,
to a point where her true identity became a blur.

Around some, she’d be obnoxious and loud,
but with others, quiet with her head in the clouds.
Around specific friends, she was wild and care free.
Around others, she made choices a bit more cautiously.

She got used to pretending to be someone she’s not
and masks became more comfortable she thought.
But at the end of the day alone in the mirror,
the problem suddenly became a lot clearer.

She changed herself so much to match those around her
that the reflection staring back was a complete stranger.
She cared way too much about the opinion of others
and her people pleasing nature made her feel smothered.

She was scared to open up and let those walls down
in fear of rejection or them not sticking around.  
She was hurt badly by being so vulnerable once
so she closed up her heart and locked it for months.

But things changed in her when she met him
and for some reason, he made her world a little less dim.
He took the feelings of ugliness and unworthiness away
and even after some of her true colors shined, he stayed.

He learned things about her that no one else knew
and the walls crumbled down as he worked his way through.
Slowly, her shell reopened and her inner glow returned
after years of love leaving her feeling tired and burned.

The social chameleon in her is now dead, buried, and full of rot.
She loves herself now, inside and out, whether others do or not.

I sat down by the tree in the center of the cul de sac
and I stared straight ahead for what seemed like days.
There was a brand new mailbox and front door,
but my ten year old handprint is still on the driveway.

My favorite dog, Louie, used to lay on that windowsill
and patiently wait for me to come back from school,
and behind that front window was the formal dining
room where my dad first taught me how to play pool.

Just behind that was the kitchen where Momma used to
make meat patties and gravy, her hands covered in flour,
and the upstairs middle window was where my sisters
and I used to argue over who was first in line to shower.

The upstairs window on the far right was where my
neighbor used to throw small rocks to get my attention.
Eight years later, that friend is now in a cemetery and I think
about him and his family more than I can even mention.

The memories of my entire childhood are embedded
into each brick of this two story house in Candlelight Hills
and knowing that my white picket fence past is now
nothing but distant fond memories gives me the chills.

These walls in front of me shaped me into who I am today
and as I sit here on the curb reminiscing on my own,
I know in my heart that no matter where I live
or how many years pass, this will always be my home.

Have you ever stared at a flame
as she dances in a fireplace?
So chaotic, careless, and untame,
but her hips sway with pure grace?

Do you feel her raw powerful heat
filling the small room around you
as her rhythm syncs to your heartbeat
and your eyes glaze over from the view?

Watch her until she roars and grows
destroying what lay in her path
before she quietly dims and slows
leaving only ashes in the aftermath.

Each flicker and each spark
kiss inside the smoke filled brick.
She illuminates what hides in the dark
as she travels from stick to stick.

She can cauterize and sterilize
and she can even mend things.
Or she can light up your eyes
by burning palaces built for kings.

Happiness is tears of laughter,
video games with your redheaded son,
rescuing a baby ferret to look after,
or telling a ridiculously cheesy pun.

Happiness is a home cooked meal,
your mom randomly giving you a hug,
a Harry Potter sticker on your driving wheel,
or seeing summer's first June bug.

Happiness is your dad being proud of you,
Momma's homemade queso in a crock ***,
an ocean wave so stunningly blue,
or learning how to dance in an empty parking lot,

Happiness is running two miles,
sitting in a pew singing "It is well",
watching the Netflix Ted Bundy trials,
or a collection of Galveston seashells.

Happiness is driving through Spring,
a spontaneous trip to the Houston Zoo,
or twenty percent off a James Avery ring.
But mostly... happiness is me when I'm with you.

Archive that text message
and print out that photo.
Tomorrow isn’t promised
and the future is unknown.

So be a collector of moments
and always hoard the keepsakes.
They’re not just meaningless accessories,
but tangible smiles or heartbreaks.

Movie tickets and keychains,
birthday wishes, and card games.
Photo albums and Summer rain,
love notes and paper planes.

The people in those memories
will come and go over the years.
But they'll be remembered in the saved
tokens of the past or in your nostalgic tears.

Your pinky finger
looped with mine
as our smiles linger
and our bodies entwine.

You whisper in my ear,
“Promise you love me?”
Oh, I love you, my dear,
like the salt loves the sea.

We’re the ones who laugh as often as we cry,
and we enjoy reading hopeless love stories
with our heads stuck in clouds up high,
but we’re also the ones that feel love stronger
than anyone, even after the hurtful goodbye.

We’re the ones that say "I love you" more
than you could ever say you love me.
We give the best of ourselves to those who
are undeserving and we forgive far too easily.
We tend to live life with a wide open heart
sometimes acting too spontaneous or carefree,
but we are good people with good intentions
and the people closest to us will agree.
We always try to show you kindness
and we wear our emotions on our sleeve,
but sometimes our love is taken for granted
and the efforts we put in, we don't receive.

We’re the ones who crumble and fall apart
because we’re much more fragile than we look,
and when we want to escape from our troubles,
you can generally find our noses buried in a book.
We can forgive those who hurt us even after
they destroyed the pieces of us that they took,
and we’re also the ones who can glue together
what was broken after the ground beneath us shook.

One day, someone will see your smile from across
the room and fall in love with the every part of you.
They will deserve the love you’re able to give
them and you’ll feel mutual passion returned too.
They won’t say you’re difficult to love, that you’re
too emotional, or that you’re feelings aren’t true.
Instead, they’ll cherish your precious heart and
do the opposite of the behavior you’ve grown used to.

To those who feel everything or feel too much,
be glad that instead of frozen ice, your heart is thawed.
You see the beauty in the little things and you're
able to love things that are broken and fatally flawed.
To those who feel everything or feel too much,
please remember it’s not at all a burden or a curse,
but an undeniable blessing and an amazing gift from God.

Whew. Here it goes… Dear God,
I seek to understand you
but the ideas seem so broad
and I fear of biting off more than I can chew.

Followers say you’re all about love
and to simply “just have faith,”
but I feel disappointment from Heaven above
and I feel for me, it’s just too late.

I’ve been through so much
And meanwhile, I felt all alone.
My unanswered prayers led to a grudge
And I chose to just keep myself afloat.

My questions hold me down
from believing without seeing.
How could you let an innocent child drown?
Why does it seem like you neglect certain human beings?

Why do horrible things happen to good people?
Do you really believe that all people deserve forgiveness?
Is Hell full of people that took pleasure from ink in a needle?
Why does the negative connotation exist for the word “religious?”

I’ve struggled with the idea of you
And I’ve given up numerous times.
But still, I patiently wait for my breakthrough.
And I still try to read between the lines.

Although I have doubts, I promise to never stop praying
and to keep trying my best to understand faith.
And If I ever get to see your face, I promise I’ll begin by saying,
thank you for my blessings and showing me a lifetime of grace.

She was wild, free, but broken
With freshly shattered chains.
The neon lights called her name
And Tequila filled her veins.

Her ring finger tan line was fading
But the emotional damage remained.
She felt like she had wasted precious years
Of her youth and only herself was to blame.

The music blared and the lights lowered
As the couples filled the dance hall.
Her red curls cascaded and her lips curled into a smile
When he extended a hand and said, “You wanna waltz, doll?”

He twirled her around for what seemed like days,
As Chris Stapleton serenaded her heart.
She danced, she drank, and she laughed
And she tried relentlessly to keep from falling apart.

She was wild, free, but broken
With freshly shattered chains.
The neon lights called her name
And Tequila filled her veins.

Every being has a story.
A hopeful beginning, an adventurous middle, and a tragic ending.
Stories told via ballads, film reels, ink on parchment,
or parking lot narratives disguised as a friend venting.

She saw beauty in people being unpublished stories,
a behind the scenes director’s cut on the hidden scenes of life,
quarter notes on a staff translating memories into sound,
or a series of written chapters allowing the past to survive.

She could spend hours walking through cemeteries
knowing that every monument represents lifetimes of tales,
and that six feet below are the hands which fought for her freedom
and ocean eyes that sparkled in 1941 as he lifted his bride's veil.

She tears up as she stumbles through thrift stores
knowing that every picture frame or cracked vase holds meaning,
and that a stranger could glance at this hideous green center piece
and remember an unbroken family around a dinner table beaming.

Despite her idealistic fascination with the jigsaw pieces of others,
she often questioned the plot in the story of her own life.
Has she done anything worthy of being remembered? Or Will She?
In sixty years, will her grave visitors laugh, smile, or cry?
Will he think of her when he hears ocean waves or piano keys?

Either stunning or horrific, stories cannot be altered or forgotten.
One day, she hopes that her story is something to simply adore.
A hopeful beginning, an adventurous middle, and a tragic ending.
Every being has a story. What's yours?

Endings lead to new beginnings.
One door closing makes several others open.
Ideally, before the new door **** is spinning,
the old door should be locked with all ties broken.

This corridor between the past and future
makes my cautious and indecisive mind spin.
Invitations from new doors feel like sutures
closing up the emotional wounds on my skin.

The corridor of choices feels like I’m in limbo
constantly being pulled in different directions
surrounded by doors when all I want is a window
which could answer my simple questions.

A window inside the doors allowing a sneak peak
of what life would look like and what may lie ahead.
Would I be happy with him and finally feel peace?
Or will coming home to him be something I dread?

But unfortunately, life doesn’t work that way
and you don’t get spoilers that help you make decisions.
You’re supposed to just breathe, turn that doorknob, and pray
that what stands behind it waiting for you fits your idyllic vision.

Your heart beat is as steady as a snare
And your tattoos act as trace lines for my fingertips.
The rhythm of our inhales and exhales harmonize
As our naked limbs twist and tangle to intermix.

You gently snore into my hair
And your muscly biceps securely embrace me.
The sweet aroma of your skin floods my lungs
As I hopelessly gaze at you ever so lovingly.

My eyes moisten for I wasn't supposed to get attached.
And these feelings shred the strings of my fragile heart.
You saved me when I needed a savior and you
Appeared with an absorbent shoulder for support.

Inevitably, I collapsed into the abyss of unreturned love
And I long for a day where our feelings synchronize.
But, I admit that I'm fervidly in love with my "best friend."
As I fight tears, silently break, and wait for sleep to arrive.

Is it possible to grieve someone you never met?
I smiled for months feeling you two inside me
Thinking this was as good as life could get.

Five months later, the surgeon told us you no longer had a heartbeat.
Following the animalistic sobs, I realized that we'd never get a chance to really meet.

I carried your corpse inside me
until your sister could grow a little more.
The guilt and anger i hold inside me
Makes my heart and soul feel completely torn.

A few weeks later, they handed you to me all bundled up in a blanket. I held you for an hour before they took you away. The silent tears ran down my cheeks and all i did was pray.

Your twin sister, Christine, is doing well.
Sometimes when i look at her, i think of you and cry. It kills me to know you what you would have looked like, and I'm sure you would have given your daddy hell.

I love and miss you, my sweet Catherine.
Lord knows i struggle with faith, but i dream about meeting you in Heaven one day and i can't wait to hold you in my motherly arms again.

I thought you were good for me.
But it turned out, I was wrong.
Privately, you acted like I was yours.
But in public, you played a different song.

I followed you like a lost puppy
desperate for love or kindness.
You made me look like an idiot,
and I’m disgusted by my blindness.

Now that you pushed me away,
my eyes have finally cleared up.
You chose everything else over me
and I was nothing but a runner-up.

I’m sorry that I couldn’t be a robot
and that I let my emotions grow.
I thought you’d always be there for me,
and for that, I’m sorrier than you know.  

The worst part is that a piece
of me will always love you.
Despite everything, I pray for you daily
that you may find peace and love that’s true.