I've always been the woman of many jobs,
Who floats from one thing to the next.
My interests are too expansive and too small,
At once.

I always change my hair,
I frequently change my diet,
And I always change my mind.

I wish I had a passion,
Something to call my own.

And though I have my loved ones,
I'm always left alone.

Some may say I'm in a valley,
And all that's left is to climb.

But all I see is myself,
Slowly wasting time.

White smudges like maps line the walls.
Crinkled bills sit on the counter.
The shades have wiped away the sun.
And humming drifts through the room,
Without a greeting.

Air sits thick upon the chest.
A pencil skipping skillfully to the tune,
Of Rosemary Clooney.
A single bead of moisture glides towards the desk.

One single tear of a paper takes us from Monday to Tuesday.
And it's here we find ourselves.
Again and again and again.

Until everything changes once again.

Close those eyes,
That sting and drip.
Slow the breath,
That shakes and quivers.
Calm the heart,
That yells and groans.

This body is only skin and bones.

Like twinkling lights,
The soul will show,
unto the room.

I'm thankful for what I've lost.
Because it changed me.
I'm thankful for how I've hurt.
Because it's shaped me.

I'm thankful for what I have.
Because he loves me.

To become so self aware that you can feel everything.
I can see myself from outside my body.
Except it's all a lie.

The shape of my body,
The curve of my hips,
The palor of my skin,
The frown paste to my mouth.

This walking lie.

The way people stare at me with disgust.
The faces they make when I look away.
All the awful things they've got to say.
All imagined.
All lies.

Why do you hurt yourself?
Who told you these things happened?

When you've lost trust in every person you will find only sorrow.
There is beauty in pain.
And trust is pain.
But you are not shattered glass.
So you will not act like it.

This paranoia will eat you alive.
This unhappiness will swallow you whole.
This beautiful girl you stole.
From me.

I haven't forgotten her.
I will find her.

if you love him, let him be.
Do not over analyze his words
Or his message.
Do not grow sour in a silence,
Do not fall cold in stories past.
Accept him for who he is,
Human.

There is no perfect man.
There is your man.
Let him say what he wants,
Let him think how he does.
If you love him, let him be.

He may not be an open book,
Or a romantic poem,
But when he shares his mind,
I could listen forever.

Those eyes that lock with mine,
In every movement,
In the quiet,
Or in between the covers.
Those are the eyes I see,
Even when mine are closed.

So I love him. And I let him be.
If he treats you with love and shows only loyalty.
Then please just love him. And let him be.

Writing is one of the few ways I know to explain myself.
To work out what I'm feeling,
And to express myself.
And yet with you there are no words.

No adjective or verb put together could reflect what I'm feeling accurately.

It's just a moving picture in my head,
Small memories and thoughts about you molded together.

Your laugh, your lips,
the freckle in your eye.
Your breathing as you fall asleep.
The covers wrapped around us both in the middle of the night.
The way you try and make me laugh when I'm angry.
Your jokes and one-liners and isms that make you, you.

That's how I know that I mean it.
When I say I love you -
I can't describe you any other way.
I can't verbalize what I feel for you any better,

Than those three words.