give the girl a cupcake
she wants a retake
smooth over all her mistakes

To all those suffering today
Write it down
Sometimes suffering sounds beautiful

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

we are poems.
beautifully written,
wonderfully designed;
marvelous works of art.
we are written with
starlight and wonder,
with verses of beauty
written across our hearts.
we are walking rhymes,
walking wonders,
walking words that tell
stories of freedom
and redemption.
we are poetry,
we are songs,
we are melodies
that are sung on
bright days.
we are the words of grace,
we are the words unforgotten,
we are words that remain.

Dear flower
They were wrong about you
You didn't bloom
You didn't need to
you're still beautiful
but they've ruined your image
With opportunities you were never  given
"Maybe next spring"
You hear those words over and over
There would be no other option
They've planted seeds in your mind
Of everything you've done wrong
But what about everything you've done right?
In your short life
You never reached their standards
But you've reached mine