Beyond the eternal feeling
of absence and lost
is the mindless questioning
of letting yourself
suffer it alone

my mind
is a mess
that you decided
to call beautiful

A woman has been taught
to either remove or cover
Parts of them that
They were already born with
And be acceptable
To people who would
Want to see them later

Learning to love
By living in its arms
By breathing its air
By seeing its eyes
By the very nature of being

When I was three
I ran away and got lost
When I was four
I swam too far and almost drowned
When I was seven
I cursed and was reprimanded
When I was twelve
I got into a fight and bruised
When I was sixteen
I met you
For a second
I thought I would be fine

In my hands
I hold the stories
Of late night calls
Walks down the beach
Whispers of sweet nothings
Hopeful gazes
Drunk shenanigans
And love
every taste and feel of it
I let go
And watch the stories
Be scattered fragments on the floor

Events of life
Have me wondering
If good exists
But I hold on
Because they have taught me
Of what love is
Of what love means
And if all else fails
I know that love will not