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 May 2014 Aeya Jean Johnson
Love
Eat
 May 2014 Aeya Jean Johnson
Love
Eat
Is that the lowest moment?
When you don't dare to wear shorts because of the scars that cover your legs.
And then you're sitting there at the dinner table with your family,
And they keep on telling you to eat,
But all you mutter is "I'm not hungry",
When you actually are.
You're starving but your image is worth more than a meal.
You eat a few bites just to shut them up,
And then run to the bathroom to rid yourself of it,
To make sure you can fit into those jeans,
The ones that could stand you losing another 5 pounds.
You get used to the lies of:
"I'm not hungry"
"I ate before I came"
And "oh yeah I'm fine, just tired".
Is that your lowest point,
When the only food you're feeding yourself is lies?
 May 2014 Aeya Jean Johnson
Lunar
beware when you fall in love
with an artist
be it a painter, a singer, or poet

for the artist will
paint you
with strokes and hues
in shapes of every kind

sing about you
with heartbreak lyrics
and feelings which rhyme

write about you
with the simplest words
and a secret message she wants to say

beware of the artist,
and her love
one wrong move
and you're an artwork in her display
Everyone wants a love like no other

Everyone wants to reach beyond their dreams

Everyone will wish upon a star in the heavens above

Everyone has the same wants and needs

Everyone holds what they have like it's not enough

Everyone treats relationships like catch and release

Everyone reading this will say not me, it's the others

Everyone that hides things from themselves will eventually see

Everyone has a friend only they can trust

Everyone whispers word of wisdom, Let it be

Everyone looking down should be looking up

Everyone everywhere should be free
This photo, I see an angel

Her eyes glowing. Blue and pure like stars in the night sky

The long golden locks calling to me. My fingers wanting to move through

Skin, so soft and smooth and fair as fresh snow. So clean and inviting

Glowing cheeks as she smiles, a smile that could light up my heart at its darkest

You hold a rose in your lips, its petals red and beautiful. Pale in comparison to the the draw of your lips them selves

You are beautiful

and magical

But the most special thing about this angel is all the little things
that a photo can't show

her heart

and soul

You are beautiful inside and out.
Even if you can't see it.
For an angel
Struggles plague or day to day,
poverty stricken,
and heartbroken.

We search for meaning,
for love,
in an unlit room and no light to guide us.

We are striving for the American dream,
but even if we reach it,
we would not know true joy.

We fight the pain with numbness.
In anger we lash out with arrogant fists,
and lustful bodies.

Telling our creator off.
Telling him "We are in control!"
Telling him to intervene.

because we cannot live through
another rejection,
another loss.

With arms bloodied from the glass vase we threw at him
he embraces us with his love.

And as he looks us in our eyes with tears, we caused,
streaming down his face,
we are enveloped in His grace.

We wait for words of anger to pour from his lips
and instead, out falls
undeserved mercy.

Our creator knew we would strive
for worldly glory
and earthly treasure.

He knew we would fight him every step of the way and
he forgave our sins
before we were even a whisper in our mothers hearts.

As we beg him to save us from the next rejection,
we reject him.

We worthless reject the one worth all.

He loves us through our doubts,
our fears,
our anger

because he sees through our worthlessness,
to the hidden worth,
that he created.

As he is strung up on a cross
of our wrongdoings
we scream the unfairness of our circumstance.

As if our pain was a cruel prank he played
and not a result
of our own disobedience.

Our cries of injustice at a
back-of-lot parking space reach the ears
of the man bleeding and bashed for
our lies and selfishness.

He implores his father to forgive us,
knowing we are going to do it again.

That is the beauty of faith:
         A father who loves
         A spirit that guides
         A son that died

for us,
for you,
for me,
even for me.
The weight of your grace and mercy
rides on the shoulders
of my sense of justice,
because what is just
about you paying
for my sins of brokenness?
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