I was fractured until I met you;
the boy who saved me from halfway
across the world. Somehow, you pulled
me from the waters I was drowning
in without being there to touch
my pathetic body. You taught me to swim
rather than pulling me out;
you never were afraid of taking the road
less travelled. When I finally met you,
touched you and saw you only to cry
when saying goodbye, it was as a complete
person. I could look you in the eye
and love you the way I should have
for all that time. I was your equal.
I wasn't fractured anymore.
I'm not fractured anymore.

So many moons ago, before the tides of your love changed
me, the November grey of ink which surrounded my groggy
limbs pulled me down. I was drowning, always.
Yet all it took was for me to see that the ink
had power to do something more - to stain
and change the paper beneath it instead of destroying
it. It will take away the blank inanimacy
of the white and make something storming, wild
and capable of feeling. It will make something different.
I will use this ink to make something beautiful
to be remembered by instead of letting it defeat me.

She is dancing in a cloud of rain with such reckless,
joyful life that she sings a thousand melodies
with her limbs, flying by grasping
at the air around her. She forms paintings from the dark
clouds above her and, screaming
her laugh into the night, is free. The embodiment
of beauty, she is the newness of the green spring and the
sweet smell of cherry blossom which comes so easily to
the tongue; a fond memory. She is the coming
of something new, the feeling of freedom and love
which fills the hearts of the young and naive.
She is beauty embodied
in the face
of a month.

She was small, quick, agile; a red fox darting
through the forest, quiet as the moon.
She was the fox and he was the hunter,
chasing her like owls chase the stars.
Those never-ending forests were an infinity
of dark limbs reaching from the earth to grasp
at the sky and pull it closer, and they circled
one another in its depths. Slowly and curiously,
she moved closer, only to dance and shift away
when love's embers began to settle within his eyes.
She began to run once more and did not stop until,
one day, the hunter became a fox
and she turned around to look him in the eye.

The mothbitten light streaked in from the yellow moon, dodging
between ribbons of old curtains and dust, and bounced
from your quiet face in stunned silence.
Your clear and cloudy grey eyes transformed into diamonds,
staining your face with a reflected blue too
beautiful to ignore and not at all dulled, igniting
blazing fires within each iris and bringing them to life.
Wild and honest like the wind, I fell
apart when you looked at me
for you have all of the stars in your eyes
and I wasn't ready to see them yet.

Everything is falling apart again;
my head won't create the words I need
to sustain my fragile state of mind. I
cannot even bring my thoughts forward to
help you understand, or write them into
something cohesive. I am completely
unable. I am terrified that this dreaded
block on my hands will never lift and
I will never get the power of words back
which I use for entirely everything.