When reduced to a body
By the man who held my worth
I thought
"This is what an apple tree feels
When reduced to paper"

It didn't hurt to say his name
This is it,
This is when life begins.

This is for the "windows open and stars bright"
Your skin that smells like Hemingway novels,
The "ardently" Darcy spoke about,
For making the "silent unspeakable memories",
This is for bringing to life in me
Everything I read about,
To escape what I was living.
You are the book I always wanted to write,
The story I woke up in,
Living forever in the last chapter
Of my favorite fairy tales.

You were always loving me "despite"
I needed you to love me "because"

My biggest
character flaw
is that I’ve
always been
a perfectionist
disguised
as a romantic.

It’s not about you, Prince Charming.

When I go outside, the earth, my mother always tells me:

Your petals may fall,
some days you’ll wither,
but you are a growing flower;
one whose beauty is out of the picture.
Don’t forget to look up, or down,
dig your feet into my ground.
I am always here,
watering your wounds
and rooting for your smile
to be in full bloom.

Half full,
or half empty—
to be broken
and not know
what broke you
is a shattering
thought.