.
.

My eyes like a sharpened blade
I surrender.
.
.

            ....theprettypoems....

.
.
.
.
.

May you always have soft sunlight, a full moon, a bus that always comes on time. Flowers. May your kisses feel like falling, like stars blossoming into nebulas. Good hands. May you feel like you are infinity, like time is always on your side. You are divine. A mouth full of words that sound like "Yes," Eyes full of darling.  Skin soft like snow. May you always smell like honeysuckle, perfume as flowery as honest conversations. Laughter. A lazy afternoon spent staring at clouds. May you have love.  Love you can whisper to. Love you can scream about, write about, sing about. May you always love yourself most of all.
                ....theprettypoems....
.
.

i always recommend
if you can't stop crying
to drink a cold glass
of water.

a new study reveals
44 genes that link to depression

imflammation leads to depression
water reduces inflammation in the body

and i also recommend to go
outside in the sun
your crown shakra warm
with gold light

grass boosts serotonin in the brain
the sun changes chemicals
the water changes chemicals

depression is a chemical imbalance
in the brain

and once you realize that
it will somewhat normalize
the dis-ease

it will make it seem
less like
it's all in your head.

it's real.
depression.

softness. mushroom
stupor, hazy wine eyes.
she wants to get up to leave.
she stays to have another drink.
bright eyes. golden goblet.
she's not planning to stay sober.
fill the mouth with the ocean,
drink  until its almost empty.
.
.





it aches her heart to know how heroes are made.
she prays that she still has time
to trade places with him.
She'd rather take the pain herself.

take me down
to the city
where I come from
take me home

.
.
.
is it to late
to stop the sun
from setting
on its
last
goodbye
departure
.
.
                ...theprettypoems....

She read somewhere that Hell was not made of fire, but with ice. She believed it, her knuckles bruised and the endless waiting.
Hell was sitting forever behind a computer screen for a connection, chained to her habits,
there was so many things she wished she could change.  she was worried people might see her the way she saw herself.

And she thought it'd be nice if there was a fire.
Something that burns you from the inside and shines brighter than a star.
A flame that attracts other people out of their own darkness.
Bonfire moments. She would go on a small quest and discover
the secret flame, the fire of the Colossus heart, and
bring it to a bonfire and rest.
In this frozen Hell of waiting for one person to say
hello over the internet highway,
and not condemn you, but genuinly
wish you were not just pixels and a video chat, but
something more human.
a dancing flame, a fire princess with firey hips,
she can't be seen through the wire, but you could feel
the heat.
She asked him how he had been, not realizing
his cold reply meant he had not moved on
and sometimes
he still
read their old
messages.