and his voice is melodic to me
captivatingly beautiful
like music

They say that when you lose an arm
Or a leg
Or a hand
Or a foot
You can still feel it there
That your brain is so used to having it there
That it can't conceive the fact that it's gone
So you still try to grasp for things
Before you you realize that you don't have a hand to grasp with

I'd always wondered how soul-crushing it must feel
To just forget it's not there anymore, because it still feels
so real, so there
And then have to be forced to realize all over again that it's gone

But you aren't there anymore
Half of my soul, of my body, of my heart, of me is with you
My heart is so used to having you there
That it can't conceive the fact that you're gone
I reach and you're not there

*You're My Phantom Limb

I may be broken
And at some times
I feel hollow
I don't love myself
The way that I should
So I'm told

But I love you
More that I thought
I could love anything
You wake up some thing
Inside of me I thought
Was long gone

I feel emotions
That I forgot about
Ones that make me smile
You gave me hope and
Reasons to enjoy my life
I forgot about

I want to do
Everything in my power
To make sure that you
See how beautiful that
You really are the way
I never did

You lift me above
My sins I have committed
To myself and my body
And to those who care
About me and even
God himself

You pulled me out
Of the pit of darkness
Filled with the demons
That lived inside me
Filling my head with
Vicious truths

I can't thank you
Enough for what you've
Done for my well-being
You showed me the light
And the love that comes
With your help

Sitting, biting my nails
Missing something, someone
but who?

Girls my height are supposed to be petite
Skinny and proportional
When I would read seventeen magazine and they would show the best outfits for your body type
Mine was never on there
Not big enough to be curvy
Curvy girls in magazines were curvy all over
and average height
The petite girl wasn't supposed to have curves at all
The petite girl was thin
The petite girl could wear anything

Why can't short girls have *******?
Because when we do, we're a fetish
And for some reason, when you fit a fetish people assume you're there for them.

"I like short girls because you can pick them up when you ****."
"Short girls don't have to get on their knees."
"Can you **** my **** standing up?"
"A C cup on a short girl is like a DD on a normal girl.”
“I like ******* short girls because I can really take control.”

My mom always criticized me for wanting to dress slutty
And it broke my heart because I never wanted to look slutty
I just wanted to wear what my skinny friends could wear
And sometimes it's hard when you can't find high waisted shorts that cover your *** all the time, even right after you stand up from sitting in the car for 30 minutes and they rode up a little, but a little on you is a lot because you don't have a flat *** like all of your friends do, but you can't go a size up because then they're too big and they still don't give you the coverage that at first your mom wanted for you but that you now want yourself because you can feel the heat of people staring because girls like you shouldn't wear those kinds of shorts, and at parties they think it's okay to touch if it's not covered, and you've been in this H&M for 3 hours and nothing fits you like it does that tall, pretty girl with the A cups in the fitting room next to yours,
But how could my mom know that
At 5 ft 4, she weighed 98 lbs on her wedding day
You can wear anything when you look like that

you are my blue
you are my serenity
and my buoyancy
my happy skies,
my comfortable denim

you are my yellow
you are my optimism
and my bliss
my incandescent sun,
my summertime glow

you are my green
you are my resurrection
and my liberation
my vivacious budding,
my sturdy oak tree

you are my red
you are my passion
and my fortitude
my pulsing heart,
my ceaseless flames

you are my white
you are my solace
and my relief
my unperturbed clouds,
my blank slate

you are my hues
you are my spectrum
and my exuberance
my opaque neon,
my life-altering colors

I dream of
golden skin
As it burns
Angry red

He's better than I am.
Kinder, wiser, much more patient...
It's the patience and kindness that I can't help but envy
I'm so quick to judge.
Others must earn my kindness.
He's one of the rare and beautiful souls that will leave the world better than he found it
It's in his nature to plant seeds in every footstep,
While others trample life beneath them.
He's the Greek goddess who was so lovely that flowers sprung up wherever she went.
But he's different.
He's beautiful on the inside
He leaves something substantial in his path.
Flowers are pretty and fleeting,
but he plants oak trees behind him.
The trees he leaves thrive for centuries, they grow tall and strong and beautiful
Generations upon generations see his trees and they love them
He will leave forests in his wake and maybe no one will know that these forests are his...
But that's not why he leaves them.
Planting seeds in his footsteps is in his nature and I believe that's why I might love him.

The mind is endless space 
So much room for so many ideas
The phrase "open-minded"
Is a wonderful phrase indeed 
To open that infinite space
And to accept knowledge, opinions
And other things
Things you can not simply get
By yourself 
So now, you must agree with me
When I say that the phrase
"Small-minded"
Is incorrect and impossible 
The only correct phrase 
For the meaning of 
"small-mindedness"
Would be "close-mindedness"
No one has a small mind
They just refuse to fill up
The humongous space they have
They want to believe 
That they have all the knowledge
That they'll ever need. 
That, of course, is impossible
And irrational. 
But These people are not
Stupid,
Or dumb,
Or stubborn,
**They were simply taught wrong

Don't try to save me
I'll only pull you down to hell with me
I'm toxic
Don't let me contaminate you, too
Because I'll fall for you
Every time
I can't stay away, I love you
But you,
You can get your distance
So please, please
I'm begging you to leave me
Sure, it'll break me
But I'm already broken, aren't I?
So really,
What's the harm in saving yourself?

My father wears
leather work boots
they are tough and worn
with thick but thinning soles

My father has
calloused hands
they are thick and strong
from years of work and guitar

My father plays
an old guitar
it's beautiful and cracked
and comes to life at his touch

My father has
a big heart
as worn as his boots
strong as his hands
and more beautiful than his old guitar

I sit in the pews
And I read your gospel
Of pretty things that you say
Things that make me okay
Things that lift me up
This word of God of sorts
That divides my soul in half
Tearing the black, tar-like mess
That is myself from it and
Condemning the demons within
To Hell where they came from
Leaving behind a clean, pure
White slate that's just waiting
To be filled with your love
The love you blessed me with
The love I don't deserve but
So willingly take because of
The way you say my name
And make me feel whole again
A feeling that seemed so gone
So long gone that I lost my will
And it became a downhill battle
Slowly but sure surely
Burning my demons with the
Light of your love that I am able
To accept and hold strong to
Without your blessings and
Unconditional love that seems
To be unheard of I couldn't have
Overcome what I have overcome
And it's it your Old Testament
That rewrites my New Testament
Saving it from the flames of hell
That devour the voices in my head
The ones that's scream
"You're not good enough"
"You don't deserve him"
"You'll **** the ones you love
Along with yourself
Create distance before it is too
Late for all of you"
"Maybe hurting yourself will give
You the control that you can't find"
You lifted my crucified heart
From its grave that it laid dead
In for much longer than 3 days
And you removed the nails
And saved it from the devil
Known as self hatred
You held my hands in prayer
And through your hands
Flowed love and freedom
From myself that I needed
You made self love an option
And by looking at you
I just know that
*Your smile is my church