To my dear poems,
Although you're close to me, I will no longer strive for perfection with you
For I believe the raw emotions and imperfections make you beautiful and I am too in love with your flaws
The scraps of paper with scribbled words
Coffee stained napkins where sudden inspiration hit
Temporary words on palms
And unlike mine, I love your scars
You let my heart speak without a filter and the more perfection I force upon you by replacing words and rewording my pain,
it becomes nothing more than a never ending game,
making me obsessed about your appearance, I end up with useless words that make not a difference.
So instead of giving you hours, I will give you each a piece of myself and I know it will remain safe with you.
From your imperfect writer

Looking into the mirror,
Staring deep into the stranger looking back at me,
I search for pieces of myself that were once familiar,
Try and remember a time where my reflection reassured my identity
But I'm falling short and the stranger staring back is scaring me
Am I also scaring it?

I never anticipated love to be the antidote,
but here you stand, healing what I thought would forever be broken

Once upon a life too short, I stumbled upon an interesting sort...      
These fragile people, too broken to cope, that sought council and guidence and a thing known as hope
While some found religion which gave out great strength, others found partners who they've loved ever since
But some, they're still searching and I guess so am I, for one thing that will guide me till the day that I die
So I say this to those who are still searching too, I hope you find something that brings hope to you

I will admit, I am shocked how quickly true love can turn toxic,
morphing into a poison that runs through our blood stream making us scream and bicker
and so the love we once felt is reduced to a flicker.
Toxins replacing our delicate words that once held such warmth,
with ones intended to hurt and bring each other to war,
till the point we are dodging our shattered love on the floor,
and grow eager for self victory though there is no award.
So tell me this dear,
is any of our toxic love, true anymore?

please see
my feet are heavy and dragging
my heart is bitter, unwilling
my hopes crushed and scattered
while my body lays broken and battered
my breath is strained and wheezing
each step taken unforgiving and teasing
so giving up seems alluring and tempting
because this pain just seems unrelenting
but I was told perseverance is key
so i'll keep going, but I disagree

Help, she sobs to the dust filled air
And even though there's no one there
She feels like someone's watching

Her internal screams are never heard
So she splutters out the desperate words
Please can you help, I just need something

But no lifeline is given and no advice shared
She's left on her own again, frightened and scared
She just needed someone, to help ease the pain
But now she's left, to fight alone, for yet another day