I ask myself, why her?
well,
i'm not entirely sure.

But if I had to honestly guess,
Maybe its the way
she stands out from the rest.

Like
the way her laugh brightens my day,
the things she likes to do and say,
the way she chooses to pass the time,
the way she looks with her eyes into mine,
the way my heart beats the closer she gets,
the way it wants to break out of my chest,
the way she just loves to feel and to be,
young, wild, & free.

How are you?
Good.
How are you feeling?
Good.

It's so **** easy to just say "good".
To hide a lifetime of worry and fear
In one simple word.
The alternative is...
Harder.
The truth
Unbearable.

To look at someone and say
"I'm worried about money"
"I haven't been feeling so good lately"
"I have fears about where my life is headed"

It's easier to say
"I'm good"
But it's not true.

our madness is somehow
beautiful

I used to be able
To drag my hand down your back
And count your bones,
Feel every bump in your spine.
I would hold your delicate frame
To protect you from the world
But here we are,
Your shoulders are strong,
From carrying the weight of your own
World,
And you're somehow protecting me.
The strangeness of recovery
is unnatural
When we grow while broken,
Like a tree bent into awkward
shapes
And twisted around it's oppressor.
But my love,
Let's regrow together.