The beauty of a woman
is in the poems she's wrote,
the dreams she's weaved
and all the stories she's told.

The beauty of a woman
is in the adventures she's taken,
the lives she's touched
and all the minds she's awakened.

The beauty of a woman
is in the caring she gives,
the sincerity in her laughter,
and the passion in her griefs.

It's not the expensive clothes she owns,
her body size, the diamonds she's worn.
Measure not the beauty of woman in gold,
for the beauty of a woman is reflected in her soul.

the acknowledgement of needing more
has a cavern
with depth like grief
and vastness like fear
and stepping outside the door of lacklustre
is terrifying
but the peace of more reaches further than the deep and vast cavern could ever stretch to

As I wrote symphonies on your lips
And the sunlight played it in stride
time took a breath
and we we’re left to acknowledge
the way my hands felt on your chest
And yours on my back
drawing little nothing, utterly content
to rest in the breath time took
and murmur all the words the greatest lovers never got to whisper
while your green eyes shone
looking at me

days used to fly by
and maybe it terrified me
maybe because he terrified me
so it was better to look for the next thing.
but
days now crawl slowly
and it makes me groan
maybe because the next thing wasn’t there
and I was left to wonder why.

The ease in your morning breaths was everything to me
Because for once
I was no longer focused on the evening schedule or the afternoon chores
I was focused on the sounds
I was focused on my cold toes anchored against your calf
I was focused on the taste of last night lingering in the air

The ease in your arms was everything to me
Because for once
I was no longer focused on anything but now