Where everyone
is damaged goods,
there are
no damaged goods.

  ~mce

I used to have a lover
He played guitar in his little band;
And I’d lose myself in his song
And I loved what he did with his hands

I swear, it was only him I’d see
And to his steady rhythm my heart would sing
Sweet melodies; only for him
As I watched his sweet fingers
Dance with the strings

I haven’t seen him in a while
It’s funny how things change
His new melodies, I didn’t recognise
Our rhythms, no longer the same

And as he played with new found intention
My heart learnt a dance of its' own
But still; even so, I hope today
That his sweet hands play on...

I hope today,
That his
Sweet hands
Play on.

Sorrow like a ceaseless rain
  Beats upon my heart.
People twist and scream in pain,—
Dawn will find them still again;
This has neither wax nor wane,
  Neither stop nor start.

People dress and go to town;
  I sit in my chair.
All my thoughts are slow and brown:
Standing up or sitting down
Little matters, or what gown
  Or what shoes I wear.

Repeat after me:
I am a Queen, a divine Goddess
There has never, and will never
Be another me.
I have been blessed with
This particular struggle
As a lesson, as a guide.
Every freckle, every scar
Has been delicately crafted for me.
My thighs, carved by the hands of the Universe
My eyes are no less than the burning stars;
I am a work of art, a masterpiece.
Billions of years of careful planning
Have made me who I am.
My existence is entirely necessary,
It is important that I am here.
All is as intended, falling into place
At the perfect pace for me.
All that's left for me to do
Is enjoy this beautiful adventure.

There's a place
In you and I,
       Where the
       Universe resides;
And at last,
The stars
       Are calling us
       Home.

Excuse me if I come across rudely, I wasn't listening to a word... I was too busy watching your lips dance
And your eyes light up
As you tell me stories of better days,
The adventures that made you
The iridescent being sat before me;
Glowing, so radiant with life.

And how selfish of me,
You lay before me your open book
And all I could think about
Was writing the next chapter for you;
In hope that one day ours could be the story
That glows through your skin the brightest.

Just as the lotus flower climbs
Through thick and muddy waters,
To bloom above the surface
So perfect and pristine;
I think it's about time
That we began to teach our daughters
That they are nothing short of perfect
Despite the hardship they have seen

See your beauty is no reflection
Of the corrupted world you see,
Doesn't matter where you come from
Or the places you have been;
And you are no reflection of
The suffering from your past -
Climb above the muddy waters
And bloom,
           at peace,
                     at last.