You're holding a whip.

You don't see it or feel it,
You're barely aware of it's power,
But I know it's there.

I've felt it before,
Slashing against my back,
Carving deep red wounds.

They sting to the touch,
But I'm never able to twist far enough
around in the mirror to see them.

You're not the type to use it,
But I'll put up my fists anyway,
And throw warning punches at your kindness.

Please understand,
I'm scared of the whip,
My scars itch in its presence.

Please understand,
You are holding a whip.

I own a box with mysterious contents,
People who have never seen inside it
Like to tell me what's in there
"It's pink, so it must have pink stuff inside."
But I've seen what's inside
It's brilliant, multi-coloured,
Shifting in hues
Sparkling and flowing,
It sounds like a melody of hope
A story of bravery,
It feels warm like summer
And cosy like a rainy day,
It smells sweet like candy
And salty like tears.
I don't mind sharing the contents
If you care enough to look with me.

There are billions of stars in the sky
I named one
I loved it
I would lay beneath the night sky
and talk to my star
It's silence comforting as it listened to my woes.
I wanted to take it away
Store it in a jar
Up on a shelf
Among all the other knickknacks I've had since birth
Then it never would have disappeared.
Funny how the little space it once took up
could leave such a gaping hole
Threatening to swallow me up
as I continued to lay beneath the night sky
Full of billions, and billions of stars.
One night I'll lay down
And the space where my star was will no longer be empty
But full of happiness my star had given me
And I will be grateful I ever got to love my star
Before I look upon
The billions and billions of other stars
All different, all new, all unique
And I'll ask one
If it would like to keep me company for a while.

There's an east facing room,
in a west facing house.
Its curtains don’t open
till the middle of the day.
By then the sun has gone,
taken its rays high above
where they can’t reach the east facing room
and only get further and further away
with each hour of the day.

But at sunset,
when the west faces of buildings
soak up their long awaited sunlight,
the sinking sun is reflected
off a neighboring window,
shining a brilliant orange spotlight
into the east facing room
in the west facing house.