It happened during the November rain
When the earth was drowning and dark
Seeing you was like breathing
You pulled my face between your warm hands
Kissing me so deeply
Filling my lungs with your sweet fire
Frost melting down my skin
My body shaking; caving in
You envelop around me so I wouldn’t slip back into the shadows
Perfectly in place
You have always belonged here
I’ve never known a love so strong as your fire
I believed you when you said you would never leave me again

Writing happy poetry is tedious
But I want to try
I find putting happiness into words a galaxy-sized challenge
My bones have grown weary of the fire and brimstone thundering through them
My heart has grown desert dry of the melancholy that has consumed it
I have lived a life believing tragedy taste sweeter than wholesomeness
Force-feed beliefs that all around wealth comes only after a life absent of love and a full heart  
And I have years upon years of bitterness and rage as a result of believing in societal ideals
I want a heart full of wholesomeness
But happiness is more than sunshine, birds singing, and flowers blooming.
Happiness is smiling and, for once, meaning it
When laughter comes effortlessly
My body no longer being pushed down by bricks upon bricks upon bricks
It's waking up and wanting to get out of bed and wanting to start a new day
Happiness is the mindfulness of not being irritated by delays or mistakes
And not being brought low by the aspect of having to try again
Learning to forgive yourself
Happiness is being at peace with the silence between moments
Time doesn’t exist where happiness lives because there is no rush to get life done
Happiness is living
It’s time I start living

Let your pain be pain.
Don’t hide it under beautiful metaphors or a smile.
For the love of God, don’t push it so far down that you’re walking every step on thorns.
Let your pain bleed through.
Holding onto the ache will not make you stronger.
(Believe me, it will not.)
Pain makes skeletons.
It makes you bitter, angry, and numb.
Gripping so tight that your knuckle turn white will not dilute the burn.
It will wilt your soul.
Pain does always not build character.
It just hurts.
Pain is a wound that festers.
It will wait years upon years for it to be picked at.
What do you believe will happen when it begins to bleed again?
Let the pain flow.
Let it slip out of your wounds and roll down your eyes.
Let it pour out of your mouth till your voice is shaken to the core.
You’ll thank yourself in time.

Life is a burden we all bare
But it’s up to us wheatear or not to care
Once it was hard for my body and soul to dare
Do I go where dreams lair?
Meaningless, I believed
Living in a reality which does nothing but deceive
Defeat, this life would surely force me to concede.
And as I looked up to a broken sky
Droplets fell upon me for afar
Miraculously, I began to dream
The kind of place this world could be
If fear wasn’t King
And hate wasn’t the Queen.
Into the night I screamed
To a god I no longer had the faith to believe  
Send me to a world where mothers and fathers still love their sons and daughters
A reality worth living
A life worth bearing
I want to dream a dream worth sharing.
Life is a burden we all must bear
And it’s up to us weather or not to care
Do you dare go where dreams lair?

I’m emotional
And sensitive.
There is no rational reason as to why
I cry harder,
Feel stronger,
Tire quicker.
I don’t know why I shatter into fragments from the smallest of things.
It’s a maddening incontinence.  

I’ve learned to grow.
Seeds of wisdom blossomed from once parched dirt
Over the ages I crawled and bruised my way through.
I have a clearer understanding of how the universe works now
But I am in no way a master.  
There is still so much more to discover
And that alone is what I believe grounds me.
That simple curiosity
Of what will happen next.

I’m emotional
And sensitive.
There’s no rational reason as to why
My soul pours into everything without my consent.
As if it’s always desperately reaching out to grasp something.
An error in being human, I suppose.

I have grown to see that I wear my heart on my sleeve.
It’s a fact I sometimes have difficulty accepting.
A fact I often shun away
Because it can be crushing to feel so much, so quickly and all at once.
I wish I were better at pretending
And hiding from feeling
But I can’t seem to wrap my heart in clever and beautiful metaphors or allegories like some can.
There are many things left to learn, I suppose.
But what I have learned so far is:
When a person says they do not feel
They are the ones who feel the most.
I know this to be true
Because I say the same lies too.