you
are not
an empty
canvas, honey.
you
already are
an art
that only
a beautiful heart
can appreciate.

suddenly all of the pens i own
are either gone,
empty,
broken,
or left alone
no amount of penniless pettiness
came from my mouth,
no mutters,
sobs,
nor silence left
to give,
forgive the narratives,
which lingers
inching
the tip
of thy fingers,
that holds restless
itching
to scab and release
what remains
in scars
the pus which ferments
on hatred and
the scent
burning cocoa beans and smoke
that knocks on my eyes
a blurry vision
despite
rose-tainted glasses,
the taste
of bitterness
in farewell.

i am learning to love myself
like he never could
and darling
i can feel flowers
growing from my scars
reaching for the sunshine
of my new found smile

s.s

Dear child,
Don't be afraid,
When the moon
Isn't up in the sky.
He's quiet but there,
Always aware,
Watching you
with loving eyes.

Dear child,
Don't be afraid,
When the moon
Isn't by your side.
He's silent but cares
For you who's so bare
In the dark
of lonely nights.

Dear child,
Don't be afraid,
When the moon
Is out of your sight.
With distance you wonder,
Yet your heart grows fonder,
Hence do you look forward
To living every night.