I am not the dress that I wear,
the designer heels I throw on,
the amount of skin I show.
I am not the pale complexion,
the lipstick I have on,
the size of my waist.
I am not the insults you throw at me,
nor am I the compliments --
the opinions.

Dig deeper to understand.
The feelings, beliefs, and thoughts that belong to me.
Definitions are not simple, and neither am I.

What are the chances we both ended up here?
At the same place, at the same time, at the same moment.
Perhaps the gods must have conjured this up,
must have thought our puzzle pieces fit perfectly together.
Possibly, it is pure coincidence.
That every decision, since we have been born, led us here.
Or maybe, this was decided years before.
Maybe no matter what choice we make,
we will always end up in the same place.
What are the chances we both ended up here?

She desires the world and
she craves the universe, but
doesn't realize what it takes.
Doesn't realize that her hands aren't big enough.
Big enough to carry the despair,
to carry the burden,
the sorrow.

I am in love and I am happy.
I cling to the hope,
long for the feeling,
and wish for the surprise.

And then the shock is gone.
The emotion is lost.
The faith is stolen.
Where is our love and where is my smile?

I have carved your name into a chunk of my heart,
burned your face into the dead center of my retina,
stamped your smile into the back of my brain.
I have grown blind to your flaws,
and I have fallen for your perfections.

Our eyes built a key from scratch.
My heart grabbed at it,
while yours let it slip away.
Your smile fed me hope and lies,
and mine wearily let it all in.
The lock I had put up so long ago began to shatter once again,
but this time, I didn't try to stop it.