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Hearts open up, heads nod towards each other in slow motion.
They touch and we are rooted here.
In this universe.
In this moment.
In stillness and eternity.
In connection.
In love.
what would happen if i just let everything stop? let the world go quiet,
the edges fuzzy,
slowly going black?
What are you supposed to say
when you run out of words
Teary eyes to the sky
Only silence to be heard

What am I supposed to say
When words don't even come close
To the mountain highs and weary skies
When I'm left without a single verse

What am I supposed to do
When my brain becomes an empty room
When my heart plays out it's final chord
Not even my soul speaks my truth
I came to a fork in the road.
I could have went left.
I could have went right.
But i just turned around.

See,
If i went left, down that path,
some might have,
Picked at my insecurities and laughed,
I may have tripped on a branch and crashed,
The grim reaper could have slashed,
My brains could have been Smashed.

If i went right, down that path,
Who knows what may lie,
Might be a hot, sweet pumpkin pie,
A warm, voluptuous woman willing to give me a try,
A shoulder on which when hurt I could cry,
Shelter from weather so I could stay dry,
Or love,
an everlasting supply.

But those paths could also be vice versa.
And I'd have no way to know.
so I realized that when I came to the fork,
I had to think consequentially.

So when I say "I just turned around",
I wasn't running due to confusion, or in need of protection,
I simply turned to ask for help,
I needed some direction
If you cry, dear
I'll let you
Hold you in my arms
Tell you that you'll be alright
I'll collect your teardrops
And release them outside
On a dandelion seed
And say
"Look at the beauty your sadness created"

And maybe you'll say
"But it's a ****"

And then I'll respond
"But I love and want it in my garden
It's beautiful
And so stubbornly alive
Just like you
Because instead of dying
You cried
And now the world is more magical
Now the world is just more poetry"

And then we'll hold hands
And walk on the same earth
At the same time
And think about how many more dandelions we can grow
If we keep on existing

And we do
And we laugh
And we cry
And we live
And we almost die
But we don't
Because we need to tell more weeds they're beautiful
Blank Space

A cloud without its sky.
A bridge with no support.
Words that can’t be filled in—
Often left with blank spaces.

Stars that have lost their twilight glow...
The flash that once helped me plunge forward.

Going on hiatus.
Slumber—
That never seems adequate.

Ink that blends into the page, doesnt bend
Like I’ve got in touch with nothing.

What is a writer without their hard-hitting words?
What is a pen without the dye to write,
Or a page without its clear, straight lines?
You say you hate your body
Many people do
But the human body is art
And nature
Which means that so is everything we hate about it

It's okay to have scars
The trees have them too
And they're still beautiful

The stretch marks on your skin
Are but the lightings in the sky
The beautiful, beautiful lighting
And those bumps are the stars

The fat, extra skin, cellulite are just the beautiful ocean water
And our hair is grass in an open field

And all of this is Art
Magic
Poetry
Nature
All of this is beautiful
So are you
I was writing a comment on a poem and I realized it could be a poem, so here we are. Something positive for a change, even though I've not been feeling it recently at all
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