You are beautiful not because of the way you look or the way you dress.
You are not beautiful because of that extra bit you did to your hair today. You are not beautiful because of the outfit you chose today.
You are beautiful because your smile radiates the internal positivity you are composed of.
You have built such a great energy that no matter how you look, you are beautiful.
Your thoughts and the words you form into conversation make everyone you speak to want to reach inside their own head and find their happiness and their worth for living.

I loved him and he loved poetry
he loved me and I loved the rosary
around his razor-nicked throat, I lit a candle for him
below the window, and I let him in
just as god told me not to, I let him in
through frosted windows and blood pacts
he found sick ways to keep my heart intact
guns and langer's lines, his lips and poisoned wines
he slid his hand into my pocket and took the church key
wrote about a girl with blue eyes and told me it was me -
and that night I had dream that he let me die
he let me die, just as god had told him not to, he let me die.

Poets show their naked pain

And this, I think
Pouring yourself onto pages
Is the greatest art of all

I hope I die alone
No one around
Just me
One last time
Me and my thoughts
I hope I die alone
All alone
Because I don't want to make
Anyone uncomfortable
Thinking they have to love me
Or care
Just because I am now dead

The door throbs with sweat
In the morning-tide
"Whom can come at this time?"
A friend, I bet.

I stalk the sound until I reach the ****.
I open it to see the face of a cop.
Some questions spewed out of the mans mouth,
about if I have seen this other man printed on some page.
Then showed me of this woman,
which coincidentally is the one I've been raised.

They stepped in with no approbation
Suddenly, the atmosphere grew with scads of tension.
They access themselves into my home.
And snooped about the room, with noses to the ceiling.
I got this panicky feeling.

Again with the interrogation.
The only thing that fled through my mind was irritation.
Words came at me and caused an explosion.
Never have I felt more broken...

I constructed this stockade
to stable myself from memory lane.
And to have it easily be destroyed,
made me realize of all that I've been trying to avoid.

The men left, leaving me with bricks to recollect.
It was not a friend, that I have bet...

my mother once warned me of
addiction
in the form of a bottle
but never told me about
you
and your pale blue eyes would
drive me to every AA meeting
I've ever been to
(s.j.b)