Time for some heals
But this
Memory of a closeness
Remains

Is it the same for you?
we never mention it
anymore

Maybe it should be left alone?
to always be a
Memory of a closeness.

It's so hard trying to improve myself
when there's voices of
those who told me that I can't.

It's so hard trying to prove
people wrong when their words
are imprinted into my brain.

She was daisy chains in July
Wilted by August
And nearly nonexistent when the leaves fell
But she bounced back every spring
Even though she fell often
In those season changing winds
She was soft and small
And had her heart right there
In the center
More golden than the sun
She was the definition of delicate
And knew the meaning of sincerity
She was everything she could have been
And somehow always growing
She was not one, but many
A symbol of simplicity
And I'd wear her as a crown
If only
She'd let me

I only know you, my lover, as the empty space between my arms where you laid that day for eight hours straight. I know you as the bitter cold and sweet dawn of a winter morning, and the pale moon hiding behind the blue of the sky.

You do not fit me; we are two different people, and I love that we choose to be together, regardless. We are color swatches, paint blotches: part of a bigger, more beautiful picture that I can only dream to achieve with your help.

And I think that is love: the fundamentals of kindness, separation, and coexisting.