How many?
How many poems?
How many breaths?
How many tears? tissues?
Cups of tea? blankets?
Hugs? cookies?
How many?
Give me a formula.
Perfect addition, let me
Figure out how many of
These little comforts will
make up the
sum,
of my
happiness.

Don't shy away
Step in it
Firm, plant your boots
Squish, until your
Submerged
Slick, dark
Let it engulf you,
You are no longer,
You
You are Earth,
Dirt, roots, and worms
Stay a while, then
Grow, sprout
There, see the sun?
It is brighter now, yes?
Grow,
Up, out
There,
You've bloomed

Both, are escapes.
I write when I need to express
When I am bursting with emotion,
I pick up the pen.

I pick up the brush, to distract.
Don't focus on the tears, no.
Focus on the eyes, lips, cheekbones.

My face is a landscape.
I plant flowers on my lids and lips,
Trim my eyebrows,
Grow my lashes.

A sense of accomplishment, at the end.
In the mirror my beauty shines,
A little more brightly.
I forgot why the tears visited.
My pink lips smile.

Emotions are friends,
and enemies.
They bring you to the
top of the mountain,
only to push you off.
I wonder, what it
would be like,
to have none.
No friends, or foes.
Simply alone,
existing.
Never climbing the
mountain, reaching the top.
Never to see the world,
in all it's beauty.
It is worth the risk
of falling.

It is the bottom of the deep end
It is the highest apple on the tree
It is a perfect score on the test
It is a goal, a finish line
It is something we all like to think we have
It is the belief we can do anything
It is unique to every person
It is wasted by many
It is my biggest fear, that
I will never reach my own.

White, cold, wet, sharp
It stings, nips
It buries,
Buries you in its
Heavy blanket
Let it, do not fight
This cold coffin
Could be home
Let the sharp breaths
Stab your lungs
Allow the wetness to
Wash you away
Become the cold, the ice
Disappear in the white-
Be at peace.