a seat on your ride home.
that I will lose my way.
travel back safely.
Their eyes glow with stars,
the wind pulling them closer...
their lips meet in red.
Your heart is simply your home.
It is your safe place.
Family consists of the things living in that ticker;
it consists of the things you hold close in those chambers.
‘You can choose your friends but not your family,’
I am told by my parent who has caused me the most harm alone...
but with the force of the wind I push against those groans.
The roots of my family tree do not match past generations.
The roots connect to my heart and mine only;
the veins that decorate the walls of my home.
So I bid you goodnight now a stranger to me,
for I am finally free to be with my true family —
I am safe here with my created bloodline,
living happily in this little heart of mine.
I beg you to remember that family is what you make it: a pet, a series of books, a painting that brings you a sense of calm...
Remember that you can, and must, uproot yourself from the weakened soil surrounding you.
All my love,
Loving you is my greatest achievement.
Who knew that a task so demanding
could be maintained so effortlessly?
My greatest achievement is loving you.
Who would have guessed that emotions so powerful
would eventually be so simple to convey?
Loving you isn’t easy,
loving anyone never is,
but it is my greatest achievement of all.
I miss the friend that kept me safe,
it kept me warm in my fragile state.
I now walk proudly and without hesitation,
knowing the friend that became my saviour
is thriving surrounded by its fellow nature.
Do you wonder, like me, if fawns miss the warmth of the grass that protected them before their legs could carry their weight?
I paint myself bright colours,
but today my dye ran thin.
You can see my veins,
troubled, dark and scarred.
Today, my heart grew cold,
if only for a moment,
felt all that I once hated.
The angry child escaped,
thrashing about behind my eyes.
He wanted out.
It scares me he still lives there,
even with so little nourishment.
He's grown more bitter, angry,
remorseful for imagined deeds.
He punishes himself,
screams and shouts,
crying out for pity and mercy.
He wants out of my skin,
the brightly coloured suit,
that I smile and laugh in.
Even if it's only make-believe.
With the point of my arrow as sharp as my jaw,
my draw back and backtalk are equally as piercing.