you were beautiful
when he whispered it into your ear
in the backseat of his car
with salty lips pressed against your smooth skin

but you were also beautiful
before he told you so

I would liken you
To a night without stars
Were it not for your eyes.
I would liken you
To a sleep without dreams
Were it not for your songs.

"                        "
      !            :                  ,                .
              ,            ,            ,                .
      ,              ;                              !
                    ,

The heart can think of no devotion
Greater than being shore to the ocean—
Holding the curve of one position,
Counting an endless repetition.

The rose is a rose,
And was always a rose.
But the theory now goes
That the apple’s a rose,
And the pear is, and so’s
The plum, I suppose.
The dear only knows
What will next prove a rose.
You, of course, are a rose—
But were always a rose.

'Tis moonlight, summer moonlight,
All soft and still and fair;
The solemn hour of midnight
Breathes sweet thoughts everywhere,

But most where trees are sending
Their breezy boughs on high,
Or stooping low are lending
A shelter from the sky.

And there in those wild bowers
A lovely form is laid;
Green grass and dew-steeped flowers
Wave gently round her head.

i.
no matter what your teachers
may tell you, your grades are not a
measure of how smart you are, that
has more to do with how you handle your
heart, and i have never seen anyone love
more fiercely or smart than you.  

ii.
i have let boys touch me just because
i was scared to lose them; don't let them
lay a hand on you without you asking
them to, you are worth more than that.

iii.
people will walk away, but you've known
that already.  keep your chin up so that when
they turn back one last time, they know that
you don't need them.
you don't need them.

iv.
i hope you find somebody that holds your
hands, even when you're nervous and
they start to sweat.  if they pull away,
you come find me and i swear,
i won't let go.

your mind is a forest, and i
want to carve my initials
onto every tree

i learned that sounds
travel faster through solids
than air, so press
your mouth to my skin,
tell me stories of the places
you were scared to have
been, i'll try my best to
understand, and with all that i am,
i will listen

My dream cycle continues after my eyes first open
But they're as fleeting as the feelings I've tried to rope in.
It was a hassle to make the lasso for it was a vast chore
I see more than I speak, wondering what people wear the mask for.
Trading in the conversating to check how I am operating
Too many problems we've been elongating,
It's frustrating, and painstakingly obvious we've been separating
When only, our thoughts are rearranging, fluctuating, and demonstrating -
New ways to gain power.  So I'm trying new ways to spend my hours
Find bliss through lists I want to accomplish.
Melancholy thoughts can create or demolish
And so through routine, our being, we must constantly polish.
Free yourselves from the skull and get astonished
by the magic in the universe, inside your soul.
You're carefully crafting this fractal of reality that we see,
with every thought
Letting go is a must, even with things we had sought.
The spirit speaks, listen to what it has taught, and is currently teaching.
Your higher self will take you to higher peaks, so where are you reaching?

Does it serve yourself enough to be happy within?

Accepting the oneness and your ability to inspire, a new life begins.