When gentle breezes turn into gale,
     remember that you will prevail.

       You may tear at these pages daily,
in search of peace and tranquillity.
   Planting hope and scattering wishes,
    Spilling blood in smears and blemishes...
       Flying out of the dark on
     wings of birds.
       Bridging the rippling void through
           severed words.

                Seeking...
             Reaching...
               Imploring...
            Writing...

     Be not wary of eyes that speak.
  Be not afraid of mouths that leak.

Know that our scribbles are only
   sacred to us.
       Emotions and thoughts we
           bind and truss.

  What we put forth, we owe it to ourselves...
     Bits of us we've kept hidden in the
darkest rooms; atop the highest shelves.

You...
      are wielder of your mighty pen.
You...
      determine how far or long your
         words would span.

   Your words... They're precious gold.
Many or little; be them new or old.

So let drip your ink with little reservation...
  Let us grow from strength to strength
     as life teaches its lessons.

   Rise up and live on in these here pages,
     For here exist only
         freedom;
               not cages.

There are blotches of red marks on my skin, my face,
bags under my eyes, 
I get around 5 hours of sleep most nights 
but every morning I still feel like I haven't slept in a century. 
This is a different kind of pain.
This isn't a migraine, or a stomachache. 
This is more than a stomachache. 
This is waking up every morning to arms full of scars that are so ******* triggering,
A stomach screaming "feed me" but skipping breakfast and lunch 
because I swear to ******* god, I've gained weight. 
This is a different kind of pain. 
This is my first poem in months which is why 
it doesn't fit together perfectly 
but since I penned all of my thoughts about 
my eating disorder, my self harm, my mental illnesses and my boyfriend,
I didn't have anything to say, 
I'd given my voice away by that point 
and that caused a different kind of pain.

There are galaxies in my throat
all named after you.

I used to wear galaxies
on my feet, in my shoes.
So I had something to look at
When I stared at my feet
Instead of looking into
The stars in their eyes

(I saw a piece titled "5 Things I Will Tell My Daughter" and I decided to write one, too~)

1. They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, but what about the hearts that hurt stronger, or grow colder? Do not let your heart grow cold... Dream, darling. Dreams can melt the ice and soothe the pain, their dreams of you gently wrapping your arms around their neck, and, speaking softly, as though they are afraid they will wake and you won't be beside them, the words fall from their lips, “I love you.” You reply, “I love you, too.” But then, we must remember: although all dreams end, the fire that is their soul cannot be put out by any force other than their own lack of will. Your soul will not lose its flame unless you stop pouring gasoline into your heart, until you stop gathering firewood from your limbs. Remember that it takes time to become the person you want to be. Do not, under any circumstances, give up.


2. You needn't believe that love is limited, for hearts expand endlessly. Remember that some women will call you a sinner, and some men will call you a saint. Love them both. Love the way that although goodbye means going away, going away does not necessarily equal a forgotten promise to return. Love the notes that you keep in the bottom of your dresser in a shoebox from 7th grade, love your favourite shirt, love your first video game, love your first romantic partner and love your last. Love red flowing dresses and sweatpants and above all, do not be afraid to love deeply, messily, and even predictably, because sometimes, predictability is okay.


3. You are a raging hurricane, an endless forest fire, a light autumn drizzle, the flicker of a candle flame, a brilliant lightning bolt and the house-shaking clap of thunder that follows. Do not allow anyone to undermine your worth, your being, your sentience, your magnificence. You are the world, and the moment you believe otherwise (because you will) is the moment when, if not I, then somebody else you care for, will be by your side with a can of gasoline and a few extra logs.


4. Do not spend your life in search of a place to call your own; instead, mould your skeleton into a home and place your soul behind your eyes; house galaxies, constellations, and all the infinities that you can hold inside your being and never let them go. When your skin starts to crack, pour grace into your wounds and brush the kinks out of your wings; find faith in yourself, at least, if not another omniscient being as well. Just remember: If you have faith, have it when the miracles don't happen, just as much as when they do.


5. Live for the experience of breathing deeply and loving carelessly.

do not date a girl
who writes.
she will internalize
everything,
carve poems
into your eyelashes
instead of
kissing them,

she will analyze you,
calculate age
from the rings
your coffee cup
leaves
instead of refilling it.

she will memorize
the way your
lips curl around steam,
but not that you
take it
two sugars,
no cream.

she will read your
palm instead of
holding it
against her chest.

she will not
blink
when you leave,
because she is
already
romanticizing it.