How can people
Love who I've become
When I don't yet know
Myself

When we were young,
Before broken by age
We danced our grand pas de deux,
Upon life's stage
Our plie's were graceful
Many grand pas, we danced
And I, never knowing,
A solo I chanced
I thought I'd always,
Be your danseus
I'd hoped for no other ballerina,
You'd have a use
You did glissade
Into my heart
But I see I've danced solo,
From the start
Pas de waltz en tournant, alone
My dance now
Since your grand jete, from my side
This ballerina, will take her bow
And for the final time,
The curtain closes
But for this ballerina,
There are
No roses

There was a time where I'd look in the mirror and saw pain, a heart that was used in vain...I saw someone who visited and wanted to stay. From every angle I saw that she was battered, betrayed, alone and scarred, her heart was cold and hard.

I lived a thousand lives, a woman who was crumbling yet a fighter inside, a beauty who stood out and a part from a world so deadly, but she had her ashes, her own past to bury.

She was me, I refuse to play victim by the hands of criminals, who tested my whole being, my existence spoke words and I stood for what I believed in, and a kept woman broke away, she prevailed.

S.B

The moon will be gone tomorrow
Will fold me over like the pleats on her dress
I could ask one million times to each star in her eyes
And never find an answer
The stars of the night lose their meaning

And the leaves in the forest know it too
Holding onto branches and changing color
They only rustle in the breeze of coldest night
But they don't feel
And the beams cannot help them see

Each ray of light
Is complete dissaray
I only know I felt you near me
In some distant song of memory
About how I lived my dream

And how nothing is as it seems

what if we could write on the stars
the way we write with paper and pen?
in that case,
i would be writing love letters every night
for a pretty soul too far away.
i'd point my finger at the sky
and trace it delicately,
then you would go outside at night
the evening breeze would whisper "look up!"
and the constellations would tell of the love
an admirer sends to you by cosmic delivery
across distances of time and reality,
from a world much different from yours.