I am a flower
except my roots and
stems have been plucked
and my roots drowned
beneath my tears
until You positioned
the sun above the
gound from which I grew
and my leaves grew
from Your love.

I'll always be Your flower

News headlines talk about
people attempting
“The Birdbox Challenge.”
When in all reality,
we are all stumbling through life
blindfolded.

And the real irony here
is that,
people are too blind to realize
they are already blind.

I don't know if it was your kisses, or your hands on my bare skin, but I feel these butterflies in my stomach and I've never felt anything more pleasant than your lips on mine. That rush, that breath, that look; my God my knees are weak. Thinking of the future absolutely scares me... maybe you'll fall in love with a girl while you're away at college, but all that matters to me now is this moment and you. You, you, you. Where you'll be when you're 47 doesn't concern me right now- I have you, and you my darling make me smile. I don't know what this feeling is but I know it's from you; you're the clouds that bring the rain, your kisses, your hugs, your laugh, your smile make me feel covered in petals. I enjoy you, I enjoy your laugh, and your smile, I enjoy every touch, every thing you do to me makes me feel so much. You are my favorite thing, my God I want to dance with you.

He didn't know the love she had
Buried beneath her skin
Held behind the bars of her rib cage
Her heart was there, burning with desire
Beating within was the song of love sung by a lark

Alas, he couldn't hear it
From the surface he only saw an expressionless doll
He never listened to her when she tried to sing to him
That deafening sound that refused to please him

So instead of being left with a song
Destined to drive her to madness
She released the lark within

But that boy couldn't let her go
Tortured by the thoughts of her
Haunted by the memory of her
He defiled their trust

She could no longer stay silent as she planned
So she opened her mouth and told him
He was not a man
She hurt his pride and didn't mind

Her lark returned
But that pretty bird was consumed by rage
Her heart now burned with a different flame