funny how now you only live
in that polaroid
picture

if I ever let you go
please know
I didn't want to

a perfect Juliet.
do you know who she really is?
she looks perfect, doesn't she?
you think you've met HER.
the one, the only.
so peel the beautiful mask from her face, and see who she really is.
so take off the pretty costume, and see what she really dons.
so take her beautiful hair
and snip it off

and see who remains. is she still
beautiful?

i'm a liar.
when someone asks me about you,
i want to cry until i lose the air you stole from me
in your thousands of kisses.
i miss you the way that the Earth misses a rainforest.
but i smile
and pretend i don't miss you.

you're a liar.
when someone tells you i miss you,
i think you want to wrap your arms around me
and love me again,
love me like you did years ago.
but you smile
and pretend you don't care.

ego is a hell of a drug.

chilled, dry, chapping winds slowly begin to glide away
and warm, sweet-smelling spirits fall upon us
the white coat of winter melts
as i walk hand-in-hand with someone who means the world and more to me
the earth’s tender surface comes to life again
with lush greens and flowers in the brightest colours
and as she holds me in her embrace
with her fragrance like the sweetest bloom
my world, my vision, my very soul seem to awaken
like the way the brightest hues return
as the spring overcomes the arctic
the long, dark, silent winter’s nights disappear
and lively, moist, warm nights overtake them
and as her eyes meet mine
and her face opens in a smile like a flower of the most beautiful kind
all is right again in my world.

my hands looked young,
once.
worry ripped the skin on my nails
to bleeding shreds.
sadness and self-hate
sliced my wrists and arms.
work wore my hands to sandpaper.
my nails shortened.
my skin cried red tears.
my fingers became broken.
my palms became rough and calloused.
my hands are not the hands of a young girl's anymore,
nor are they the hands of a delicate flower.
they are the hands
of a strong woman.