Finally the rocks have stopped falling
I can manoeuvre around the rubble
A  sweet scent of serenity with no sign of trouble

The battle has run its corse
The soldiers have returned home
Peace is on its way
My Love has been sown

The crushing storm has ended
The deep rivers run
A blissful state of rest
A joyful game of fun.

The pain has stopped aching
The hate has stopped hating
I can just be myself
Without all the faking.

i.

without words,
boy, caught up in the dark,
brown-eyed boy,

as night drifts,
dark in her clouds.

ii.

a tumbling
star,
leaden feet
sink to earth,

drowning stream...
poured from a water jug
a dark, crackling sky.  

iii.

night's thick opiates
glaze,

unmissable sky
sinks anchor-like.

iv.

slumber-heavy,
dreams carried to the stars,
lost time
stretching like a cat.

v.

boy, sleep sound tonight,
brown-eyed boy,

as night drifts
dark in her clouds.

The reality is
He won't seal your cuts
With all his sweet kisses,
He can't excavate
All the demons from your mind.

The reality is,
HIs hugs won't put
All your broken parts back together.
His texts won't make
Your entire day brighter.

Maybe his kisses
His hugs,
His texts
And his words
Can be a temporary fix.

But the reality is,
If he really loves you,
He'll make you fix yourself.

My heart can be compared to the northern lights
It is reflected in my dark brown eyes
That flash colors that no one can explain

Blues the base of all the other colors
All colors fade and melt into the blueness of my soul
My red passion mixed with my blue depression turns into a lustful purple

My hearts deep blue depths sparkle with life
Flashing strands of neon green rise from the depths to the surface and pool there

Embers the colors of vibrant oranges, violent reds and golden yellow burn in the deep blues
Making my soul look angry and aggressive
Though when the brave reach out to touch

They are not burned with the heat of fire but by the fierce pain of pure ice
I watch as if in a dream as my soul changes shape and color
Sometimes it's icy beauty takes my breath away

And causes tears to fill my dark flashing eyes
My soul has seasons like the Earth
Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall
Each season brings its own colors and feelings

It is an endless color wheel that is alive and fills the room with it's life
But sometimes there is no color...
And my soul goes black... and it takes love to bring the color back...

It all started when I was four
and it came with boys holding buttercups beneath girl's chins
and chasing in endless circles
and my skirt was a little too long
and my face was a little too round
to chase them too

I started sitting indoors and painting scenes
'cause I couldn't run like the other girls could
but four year old boys don't like brushes and  blue skies
they like little girls with flushed rosy cheeks

And when I was six
I couldn't sit inside anymore
it was time to go out and face the boys that called me fat
and try to be a rosy cheeked little girl too
but I just got flustered when I heard the laughter

But at least kids are honest
and I knew I was not wanted

By the time I reached nine
I kept my eyes glued to the ground
when I stood with my mother and listened
to my grandfather drop poison into her ears
and told her that her daughter was a monster
and that's why I didn't cry at his funeral

But at least he was honest
and I knew I was not wanted

Things changed when I turned eleven
self-loathing stayed the same
but the new boys were all skinny compared to me
and they did not hesitate to point it out
although quietly
and subtly
more awash with gasps from choking back revolting laughter
that got caught in the back of my throat and turned to tears
I never did cry in public

And the way I walked through the halls was a carefully crafted way
to make myself smaller
but they still plucked me out and told me
'You're so pretty'
(laced with sarcasm)
'Be my girlfriend'
(prolonged by a smirk)
I always kept my mouth shut

And at least kids are honest
at least I always knew I was not wanted

By age fifteen I was so obsessed with mirrors
that I carried one in my hand at all times
I'd tried every makeup technique I could find
and my mother was sad that my blonde curls were gone
now straight and brown to fade into the background
I never knew why this attracted boys
but for once I was glad I looked like everybody else

I was hearing 'you're so pretty' with a genuine tone
from boys who flirted for fun
but I didn't understand
and I thought I was special
and I thought I would marry every one who called me pretty
and we'd have three children and a dog

What I didn't understand was why every night ended with tears
because I was finally feeling the way all the rosy-cheeked girls did
but maybe it was because kids are honest
I preferred to know when I wasn't really wanted

When I was 16 I felt like a woman
because I'd had a history with boys who were *******
and this is how I thought womanhood should be
every night I rubbed three years of makeup from my face
and removed my push-up bra
and said goodnight to the boy that made my heart skip
and woke up the next morning knowing I would be ignored

I wished people would just be honest

At seventeen, I fell in love with a man
who called me his little girl
and made me feel like the rosy cheeked child
I always watched and envied
I fell in love with the way he threatened to leave me when I forgot something
and the way he slapped me
and I fell in love with how he taught me that it was okay for me to be *****
in every sense of the word
because I was the tiny little girl
with the skirt just short enough
and the cheeks just red enough
to be wanted

The words I'd like to tell you...
All the things I'd like to say...
I've decided they're simple
Let me put it this way:
I love you
I'm sorry
I miss you
Don't hurt me