Preserver
Keeper
Guardian of memories
That’s what poets are
Their words dance like a candle flame’s shadows against the soft blow of the wind
Flickering, whispering
In the silence of the night
Humming a lullaby.
Their words the tune that tell
A story.
A memory.
Of what once was, of what is,
And of what will be.

I’m in love with the night
Its loneliness, the vulnerability
Hiding in plain sight
Like it wants to be seen
But fears unacceptance.

I’m in love with the moon
That ethereal glow, surrounded by stars
Like a speck of sparkling dust
A constant reminder
That the night can be beautiful too.

The night has the kind of light that the day does not have.

"You're not enough."
It has become a mantra.
With her unconsciously knowing,
Those words in her head are growing, gnawing at her already-shattered soul,
Waiting to attack again at the slightest hint of trigger:
Magazines, media, society and its expectations.
Wondering when she'll ever be enough in a world that demands perfection.

She once loved unconditionally
More than she thought she was capable,
More than even herself.
Yes, even herself.
She lived and loved like that.
Like it is a useless thing to choose to love someone only for a part.
And because she loved fully, when she became empty, it broke her heart.

Her eyes, once filled with light so bright others would glow,
Has now become an empty hollow.
The flower planted in her heart that she watered everyday was plucked and carried by the wind away.
What was left of her were the words, and instinctively those words were what she watered.
And it grew to a point that the words became her.
And the words were "You're not enough."

We are always at war
Not with the people behind the words,
the standards of society,
Or the depiction of perfection in media.
But we are at war with our selves.
Sometimes, our thoughts become our enemy.
And it's a battle we can win if we just choose to fight.