She unrolled the blueprints
that she had designed.
Building from the wreck that was left behind.

She salvaged the rubble and ruins
and cement of broken promises
granulating and churning it to nothing more than sand;
allowing it to form the foundation of her own future.

She raised one naked agony brick after the other,
cementing it with love and care.

Planting seeds of melancholy,
she watered them with her tears
and watched as the sun's warmth let them bloom
and the moon that let them rest.

She weaved curtains
and plastered the ruins.

She became the gardener,
the architect
and the nurse
of her own self and life.

- Beautiful Sensitive Soul