As the sun continues to rise, you continue to shine.

You'll find, that the devine of life is defined by this state of mind.

A brighter way of life.
It's nice. Any way it's sliced.

So roll the dice and find your inner light. Be light in weight, take flight.

As the sun rises, know that now is the time, to shine.

LIVES MATTER

END RACISM

in my dreams i see you sometimes
i am next to you and your eyes
are not sad
they just smile the way i saw them smiling
only a few times

when i look in the mirror
i hear your voice saying there was beauty in my
smile and in my big blue eyes
i was a little girl then
and many years have gone
and you have gone with them
but
i still remember your hugs
though it feels like decades since i was last in your arms
and your voice still echoes in my brain
i remember the last time we spoke you told me
to not cry,
to be strong
and i am trying to be.
i am.

i pretend that i am.

i see you in my dreams sometimes
and i am again a 6 years old little girl
running to you
when you open the front door
and waking up realising
i will see your face no more
it's the most painful story
and i cry sometimes
but you are not here
to open any door
and i am not 6 years old any more
and there's no beauty
in  my big blue crying eyes.

you left and took away your voice,
your dancing,
your bright face
your warm arms
and your kind eyes,
i am left only with a picture
i keep inside a box
behind the front door of my heart
and i want to go back,
to be your little girl again
and i know i'll never get to tell you
that I don't want to pretend any more
and I want you to tell me
that it's okay if i am not always strong
that it's okay to cry.

in many lines i have tried to write you
but i always do it the wrong way
and it seems impossible to describe
how much i miss you
and i need you
and
how much
i love you.

There are fewer things
beautiful than ugly,
I know that stars are most
bright when they fall
from impassioned skies,
That when your skin
meets mine, I am like an
amnesiac being returned
a lifetime of memories.

I hate few things,
except, perhaps, the murky
lakes of your eyes,
The misty beaches we
explored until sunrise.
How you pressed your lips
to mine like a death wish,
that it was deplorable,
but we wanted more, more.

My body was a map
you tore apart when you
got tired of exploring it.
The ancient psalms of our
tongues cannot silence.
Ruins of ancient Rome
survive on your lips, yet
you still live, breathe.
You call yourself mortal.