was i turning into something that you hate?
did my face, or name not feel the same?

beauty is not defined by
the colors of pigment you brush onto your skin
to hide what you believe are flaws.
its not defined by the fibers you glue onto
your eye lids.
nor the creams and glosses you swipe upon your lips.
beauty is not defined by the skin tones
that rest on top of your bones,
or what colors of silk lay upon your head.

beauty lies peacefully within the soul, mind, and spirit.

you are beautiful.

you said its what you needed.
what the doctor had ordered.
picked it up from the pharmacy.
it would ease the discomfort,
aches, pains, soreness,
and finally you would
feel yourself again.
after all the years of suffering,
you could finally love me right.
but i don't recall doctors prescribing
whiskey in a prescription bottle.

what is love
love is a best friend to dry the tears of todays struggles.
love is stirring the pancake batter while making breakfast together.
love is getting entirely lost on our first road trip.
love is the first fight over something so irrelevant you can't remember why you started to fight.
love is 2am playing card games with each other
while listening to classic rock and drinking beer.
love is a slow dance in the hallway on the way to bed.
love is you.

my past lies behind me
like the hairs that are tangled
into a bun resting on the back of my neck
like the world that dangles in my rear view mirror of my vintage
car with the torn seats
it comes to me daily
in everything i do
its there
it always will be there
but my future reminds me as its gushing through my windshield onto my face
its making my long brunette waves shimmer
and my olive skin glow
that something brighter is ahead

you forgot to take it
to the curb
you forgot to empty it
your mind had been full
overflowing with the memories of us
it sat there for awhile
you wanted to keep them but
they began to
decompose
perish
rot to their cores
and the smell lingered
you started to bag it all up
one by one you put pieces of us
in a jet black
plastic bag
with a twist tie
and walked us to the curb

you had arms
covered in them
it was artwork of the things
who made up
who you had been
and who you are presently
you gave me my first cigarette
and you also saved my life
your mother still asks about me
and I will always wonder
my place in your life