The sky is still and blue as waves of puffy white cloud
follow it down with the descending sun.
Darker blue lingers at the edges enthusiastically, waiting
to drown the paler hues in deeper oceans that blacken each
passing hour. It's like a scripted play where the sun
and its cloud accomplices are forced to surrender
and night rises triumphantly to centre stage -
although not quite receiving an applause.
Unsure, the audience shift uncomfortably in their chairs
as they are left to ponder a dark villain having the victory.
The light is soon drained from it's stocked recesses as
little tea-candle lights reflect against the navy seas,
shimmering like sparkly dancers filling the between scenes.
With bright smiles and sequined tight dresses
they're keen to make it big. They are yet outshone by
the curved crescent edges ascending; prompting
whispers of secrets to the far away planets that the moon
is now here. Almost in reverence the surrounding spaces
begin to glow - stealing the show the absence of colour
coolly shines alone - separated from the stars it
takes its bow on stage, gleaming like freshly watered flowers
it thrives on the delighted gazes of the many below.

It's okay that things are going wrong now. They'll be good again. And It's not that I'm not hurting, I just know that it won't last forever -
Even though each one feels significantly longer and I worry it will be the one that stays and eats away at my soul -
I've stopped lying to myself about the aches:
It's there.
I won't deny it.
But it has it's time, it's temporary.
Healing is a process, a journey.
I won't let this keep me down;
I choose to love myself.

She's lying down on an old bench in the corner of the yard.
One arm nursing her head, the other fending off the rays of sunlight sliced by the leaves of the tree above.
Her eyes wander, to the old wood of the bench beneath her, frail and rough, somehow supporting her weight. She rests a book beneath her head to add comfort to the skinny planks that hardly do for a pillow.
She rolls over, adjusting the book she began reading but lost concentration on; the cool blue sky above seeming to be far more interesting, next to patches of shadowy-green interlaced with bright sun. Contrasting colours surrounded by a cloudless background, moved by an occasional breeze that rattles the leaves and compels the sky to sing.  
She closes her eyes, reflections of orange-red appearing inside her eyelids; their width barely blocking the summer sunlight, instead allowing it's rays to reach through, singing and dancing and living harmoniously beside her, wrapped around her, easing her into it's peaceful, free lifestyle.
She soon falls asleep, content, protected.

Let's pretend -
Let's pretend that everything is okay as we
stitch ourselves up yet again;
smiling as we do it to fool our hearts into thinking
everything is okay -
for now,
Let's pretend it is.