Thank you for being love when my soul craved it most.
Thank you for being refuge when I needed peace.

You are my favorite melody
A song I have yet to sing

Anybody can make promises.
I want you to keep yours.

I was never a fan of the algebras or trig
And I guess it showed
Because you were the ex
& I was always asking why
But our functions always remained undefined...

I’d like to take a raincheck on your love
Pupils dilated-
Pulse racing-
I should have known you were toxic
Not the good toxic but when is it ever good

Walking on eggshells was never fun
Yet I couldn’t seem to walk away
I guess misery loved her company
And you thought I didn’t know

I was hungry for something you could never give me
You picked at my skeletons,
Feasting on my emotions while tasting of my pride for dessert

I once believed that the knots you feel in the depth of your belly was a sign that you were falling hard
I read about hearts skipping beats and breaths stopping as he or she walks into a room
And I've seen sweat coming down temples and hands clamming up, knees buckling and feet too clumsy or numb to move
I've heard that these all equate to love
But when we argue and my hands are tightened into fists and my temples are pulsing with suppressed anger, is love gone?
When my breathing becomes heavy and I am now annoyed at the sight of you, is love gone?

I've always heard that you can't fight together if you're both not in the ring;
But what if we're both in but not fighting for the same thing?!
Because I found myself always fighting for your heart while you were fighting me to save your ego
I was fighting to understand and to be understood
While you fought to muffle my voice with yours.
My concerns were held in chokeholds-
Unreleased even as I was wheezing and suffocating.
You were trained for this and I have no idea what I was thinking;
But I'm tapping out...

If I'm being honest with myself,
I'd first have to admit that I'm not as brave as I put out to be
I pretend that I hate hugs when in reality,
It isn't the hug I hate but being so close that people could read the language of my insecurities

If I'm being completely honest with myself,
I'd have to admit that I crave intimacy with another soul but fear vulnerability
So with my lips I say "I'm chilling" while my heart is asking "where is he?"

If I'm being completely honest with myself,
I'd have to admit that I don't just fall in love with looks but I fall in love with souls full of flaws and I fall harder for eyes, a smile and a brain that'll put the sun and stars to shame

If I'm being completely honest with myself,
I'd have to admit that I'm pulled by people I can't have so I settle for being a friend who really is a stranger because if I were to really be honest with myself, I'd admit that my friends don't know me because I hide behind the jokes and advice I give

If I was being honest with myself,
I'd have to admit that I want to have a conversation with someone who understands and loves me for my mind and old soul.
If they loved my body that would be a plus too.

Finally, if I were to be honest with myself,
I crave a friendship so deep I could pray with a sister after she done put me in check.
Someone who understands that we don't always have to dress up with makeup and can just hang.
Not a superficial friendship.

Your mind is a treasure that I'd love to discover
An abyss of thoughts and logarithms only you can translate
Your mind makes love better than the body can
It's a dopamine high I can't resist
So as I sit here, I **** on your words as if they were a pair of lips
I sip on your wisdom for it is the finest wine.

In case you haven't noticed
We all have skeletons
But you walk around as if your story is so pristine
You could be the valedictorian for the school of secrets
But your closets have opened and dust no longer settled
The walls cry out, each word weighed down by wrongs you've committed
You may sit there in self piety but long is the list of guilty memories that haunt you at night
You've kept awake and your heart beats in time with fear
You're exposed
fraudulent activity, your life
And I shed tears for the thief inside of you
Who has stolen your story and brainwashed you into thinking you sit on a throne
You reek of secrets shoved underneath the layers that hide you from yourself
In the end, no one can remove the scales custom fitted for your eyes
You've placed them there
And only you can remove them.

When I wake up in the morning,
I have rocks in my eyes that'll put your rings to shame.
I'm not the daintiest of women
I square my shoulders up and try to brace myself for the fall whenever I wear four inch heels or higher
I like t-shirts and sweatshirts with sassy and cool logos
Comic strip socks and cufflinks catch my attention before any dress would
I'm not perfect.
My hair is not always combed and I've never heard of another woman who has intense OCD but is at the same time extremely unorganized.
I'm a walking contradiction, an enigma to say the least.
I can eat brownies but react to cake.
My breath doesn's smell like apple pie in the morning and my pajamas consist of boxers and shirts three times my size.
I have a slight lisp when I speak and a face that refuses to soften even when I'm happy.
No I'm not mad, I'm good..
Thats just how my face is.
I don't believe in promises made by people because i've witnessed more broken ones than those fulfilled.
I'd rather let my yes be my yes and my no, a solid no.
I have a soul so old I could've kept your greatgrandma company and yet a spirit so young you'd think I was five again.
I've yet to find the balance.
I don't catch people's eyes the first or second time but I heard third times the charm.
I'm simply Geraldine.
I snort when I laugh and **** in my sleep
And at times I burp out the alphabet.
I'm just me.
Some days I'm sweet and on other days insane.
I break my own heart at times before anyone else gets to it
But one thing's for sure is that I am fearfully and wonderfully made
And my flaws are a thing of beauty to the heart meant to love me...
for me

She's a pattern and yet so complex--
An entity of incompleteness bound by the voices that tell her "she is nothing"--
A frame unstructured and yet paved by the scars life left on her--
Not an epitome of daintiness but the reflection of a clay that's been molded then chipped to bring forth all at once rugged, sharp, smooth and rough edges--
Multifaceted for she smiles in the light, laughs in the crowds, cries in the night and cringes at the slightest mention of the word "love"--
Self-conscious, never once hearing of a King who thought the world of her--
The irony of dodging people who care only to fall into the traps of the ones who would never care to figure her out--
Similar to a pressed rose--
Pressed into the lives of others, leaving behind residue to the point of self dehydration--
If tears are as perfume, heaven is filled with bottles marked with her name; Daisy--
Born delicate, pure, & soft to the touch--
But over time the petals have been dried , shriveled up into brown nothings that fall fearfully as another heart dares to come near--