I ran through the darkest forests.
I chased the lions of my tallest mountains.
I stood in the rain for years ignoring my own fear.
I fell to the ground more times than I can count.
I fought the demons of my deepest thought.
I shot a bullet through the hearts of those who told me "You can't."
I broke my own bones so I could heal.
I stabbed the doubt within my own chest.
I sacrificed my own sanity to save my own life.
I am armed with my own pride, my own courage and my own faith.
I broke down my own walls and opened up my own eyes.
I am a survivor and I am still fighting.

-Lily P. McLaughlin-

To her, beauty was a soul's passion.
She fell in love with ones' words.
She believed the damaged were the beautiful, and the lost were the intelligent.
The mislead were the leaders and the misguided were the teachers.
She understood the broken and listened to the hopeful.
She lived for the endless possibilities and timeless fantasies.
A broken mind to her was a beautiful inspiration.
-Lily P. McLaughlin-

You left her in the morning with unanswered questions and stolen innocence.
Her bed held the scent of their mistakes.
She can still feel the grip of your hands in her hair.
She can still taste the curiosity of your mouth on her cheek.
She regrets nothing.

-Lily P. McLaughlin-

The wind guides her fragile feet, while the night sky brings to life her fantasies.

-Lily P. McLaughlin-

"Let me run my fingers around the edges of your soul. Feel me burning like a solar flare.
I will make you ashes in the sand.
You will mourn in the morning, as we are nothing more than a loud night spread so evenly within the stars."
-Anonymous-

His language was one she was not familiar with.
The ecstasy of his words filled her glass.
She did not want the moon to pass and the sun to rise.
For she had become drunk on the idea of his thoughts, and addicted to his mind.
The stars aligned for him that night, his eyes opened her heart.
He helped her breathe.
He saw her true beauty.
-Lily P. McLaughlin-

Her lips spoke the language of his deepest thoughts and his wildest dreams
His words built her. Every stroke of his pen, every punctuation mark.
Every sentence written.
She fell for the way he looked at her when he perfected each word.
She desired the way his lips parted during mid thought.
The fire during each frustration drove her mad.
His flawless descriptions drew her in.
Her hands met his and their words collided.

-Lily P. McLaughlin-

3 am we meet again.

This time I'm not screaming at the sky asking God why.

I'm painting a picture with the colors of the night, and embracing the most difficult part of this fight.

I am falling in love with myself again.

I feel beautiful.

My words make me feel like I am worth something.

I could spend days losing myself in the way my ink fills blank pages.

I comfortably lose my mind to the wonders of this world, I feel at peace, I feel complete.

-Lily P. McLaughlin-