THE WAY IN WHICH INSECURITY MAKES A HOME OF MY BODY,
LEAVING HER PILES OF SELF-DOUBT AND ANXIETY LYING ON THE FLOOR.
AS I CONTINUE TO STUMBLE AWAY FROM MIRRORS,
TRYING TO FIND A REFLECTION SHE HAS NOT BECOME A PART OF,
SHE REVEALS TO ME,
THAT THE MIRROR DOES NOT HAVE TO BE CRACKED IN ORDER FOR ME TO LOOK BROKEN.
I ASK HER WHY SHE HAS NOT MOVED OUT ALREADY,
AND SHE SAYS IT IS NOT HER FAULT THAT I ALWAYS LEAVE THE DOORS OPEN.
I TELL HER OF HOW I MISPLACED THE KEYS IN THE HANDS OF PEOPLE WHO COULD NOT LOVE ALL THAT I AM.
AND WITHOUT HESITATION,
SHE ASKS ME WHY I HAVE NOT YET CHANGED THE LOCKS.

if someone has faults, it's impossible to be angry at them
once you realize those faults stem from brokenness
and that it's not a whole person yelling at you
or manipulating someone, it's not a whole person that
forgot you or stopped loving you, it's not a whole person
that looks past you or laughs behind your back, it's not a whole
person that is proud or sarcastic or spiteful or unreasonable, it's not a
whole person that abandons someone they once loved, it's not
a whole person that can hardly feel love at all and doesn't know why, it's
not a whole person that steps on the hurting and the downtrodden,
it's not a whole person that is apathetic and bitter and lost.
it's a broken person, someone who needs healing. They aren't
complete in themselves and choosing evil anyway, from a developed place.
They are broken, they are beaten down, there are chasms in their soul,
addictions and sadness and pieces left for dead. They are not choosing
of their own perfectly free will, because they are enslaved,
enchained by their own fear. It's not their fault. They are broken.
Forgive them, heal them, love them. A whole person, once healed
is a truly free person. And then, only then, will we know who they
(these people we once ****** in our hearts) really are.

I hate that you look at the galaxies
and are overwhelmed with a feeling of
dull insignificance,
because if anything,
you are not just a speck of dust scattered in the cosmos.
you are the very substance
that this universe is thrilled to be written about.
you are its incandescent gas,
you are nuclear fission,
you are a galaxy's lifeline,
it's reason to celebrate living in the darkness,
baby, your every breath is intergalactic motivation,
that if you were to stop smiling
I'm almost certain that a star dies as well.
and in the magnitude of spectacular phenomena this universe will never cease to offer,
somewhere out there,
I promise someone notices.