Maybe
It was the way
Your neon eyes
Lit up in mine
And the world
Glowed a
Kaleidoscope of
Rainbow colours

Maybe
It was being
Wrapped in your
Bronze arms
And feeling so
Very safe
So warm
Next to you

Maybe
It was grey tears
Comforted by your
Soothing voice
That cheers me on
Rubbing out the dull
Rendering me
Sunshine yellow

Maybe
It was being
Called beautiful
Because I was like
Poetry and sunsets
Great towering mountains
Pretty just
Didn't do justice

Maybe
It was our
Midnight phone calls
And feeling like
I could scrape the
Deep blue canvas sky
And twirl amoung
The blinking stars

Maybe
It was all of it
Mixed like
Paint on an
Artists palette
Pinks, reds, oranges,
Spelling out a lone word
Love.

We’re making life decisions
At only seventeen
But I’m stuck here wishing
You would choose to stay with me

Do not wait
for someone
to offer you
their world.
Remember,
you have your own.

"There are two types of people in the world," he laughed after a heavy swig. I laughed and anticipated a mindless reply.
"Those who are pens, and those who are pencils".
An eye-roll dismissed the statement but a curious brow stayed in place.
"All I'm saying is that some folks have a certainty about them. Everything glides off their tongue like cursive dipped in black ink".
I thought of where I might fall on the spectrum.

Evelyn came today
Only a short stay
On her way to Stroud
Spent a couple of hours.

Such a joy to see her face
Lighten up the whole place
Fascinated by her toys
Cheeky grin for all to win.

Gentle careful little girl
As she explores the world
Looks at every detailed trace
Of the objects neatly placed.

Filled with sunshine in her smile
The Beauty of a Summer's flower
As I whisper in you ear
You melt like sugar drops
Turn you face and snuggle in
I love  you sweet Evelyn.


Love Grandma ***

God. How am I still not okay?

God. It's been so long.

God. I'm so tired of life right now.

God. What happened to me?

I was such a nice kid.
I was calm all the time.
Mature for my age,
Little but so lively.

I was so helpful.
So loyal.
I always supported my trust.
But I never really spoke my mind.

I was shy.
I was small.
I never stood up for my feelings
I never stood up for myself.

And now I'm older.
I realize I don't need support.
I need myself.
I need confidence.

Speaking your mind is not wrong.
Standing up for your feelings isn't rude.
Standing up for yourself isn't mean.
Saying what you feel doesn't make you imperfect.

No one's perfect. Not even them.
The ones you hate for being so amazing.
Maybe she has anxiety.
Maybe his mom is alcoholic.

No one has a perfect life.
There's not one perfect family in the world.
There is not a person in the world who's perfect.
There's not a person who doesn't have one bit of strife.

But just because you aren't perfect.
Doesn't make you less worth it.
You're amazing.
You're still charming, kind, and strong.

You're just more experienced.
You just understand some more things now.

And maybe, just maybe,
You just aren't as shy anymore.

I feel bad for the Moon who burns my skin
It wasn’t her fault, but rather her lover’s
Skin once milky white -
Now swathed in blistery red
What was once a warm embrace -
Now needles in my veins
That deceiving Sun
Who once kissed my flesh into a blush
Has abandoned me to the agony of nightfall
And here I sway among a sea of grass caked in Summer's tears
Shaking my fist angrily at the Moon
Whose glow neither harms nor heals me -
But reveals her lover's trickery