I've watched you
all winter, holding your beauty close.
Protecting it from the snow and cold
in your grey-green fuzzy casing.
When the time is right,
you release that protection.
Giving you the freedom to unfold your splendor.
Like hands opening.
Like fingers uncurling.
There is hidden beauty in our winter.

I hate you because I love you too much.
But I love you too much to ever hate you.
So I take it back.
But at the same time I don't.

When you see her cry
     you get a rag,
a gentle delicate cloth.
                                        Lovingly grasp her hand
                                               and dab its tip;
                                       dry each tear as they come.
                                                           ­                               And ask each drop
                                                            ­                                   why it'd leave
                                                           ­                               such beautiful eyes.

  If she wishes
to be in the sky,
  tell her to go.
                              Take the sun ransom,
                              and replace its shining
                                    with her own.
                                                            ­          So you can see her every morning
                                                         ­                          and wish for her
                                                                ­                  return each night.

When you see her scars
  both visible and non-
    touch each gently.
                                             And remind her
                                       that each and every hurt
                                            she has survived,
                                                       ­                                 has only made her
                                                                ­                   that much more unique;
                                                         ­                              that much stronger.

  Show her that she
  is a special person
and is worthy of love.
                                     That she deserves the love
                                            she fears to give...
                                            show her so that
                                                            ­                     one day after you're gone
                                                            ­                      she can find the strength
                                                                ­                    to go on without you.

    Tell her that while
she might not be a goddess
far above worldly desires,
                                          that she is amazing,
                                         for just being herself
                                    for being that beautiful girl
                                                            ­                   who thinks herself damaged
                                                         ­                         when in truth she's just
                                                            ­                    a different kind of beautiful.

   And finally, love her.
  Like a boy loves a girl
Till she finally remembers
                                            that that's what she is:
                                          not a scar, not a goddess,
                                             not a star. But a girl.
                                                           ­                         That deserves to be loved.

He wasn't very beautiful, no.
Nothing extraordinary.
But he was everything I was looking for.
Car rides from school have been imprinted in my memory like hands in wet stone.
His cigarettes filling up my lungs with smoke and leaving my brain rushing and wild.
The way he looked at me, I couldn't even tell you.
I never had anyone look at me that way and haven't since.
It wasn't as dreamy and beautiful as I might make it seem,
Still remembering it with my former teenaged mind,
I spent most of my time wanting him to **** me in the cleaning closet upstairs at our after school job,
Or at least touch me, nervously.
But that never happened.
I did however find myself touching him.
Reaching into his soul and pulling him out until he couldn't hide from me anymore.
I made myself his home and stored his thoughts, desires and pains in myself,
Like his suicidal tendencies,
His misunderstandings and anger,
His love for my friend, Katie.
Different than ours.
I felt heartbroken,
Yet so happy as long he was,
And while it seemed unfair
I finally passed infatuation and found love in its purest form,
No matter how unfair it was.

Mackerel, they want to  be
both unanimously agreed;
but why is she stuck still
under the hide of a whale?