These scars
on my arm
remind me
that I am not the person I was before.
Ropy and twisted,
they are scraped across my skin
in memory of all the pains I suffered-
heartache,
betrayal,
torture,
abuse.
They will never leave me,
a permanent discovery of self
that should never be forgotten.
I used to wish I could make them go away,
ashamed of my tainted appearance,
ashamed of my frailty exposed in public.
But, now,
they are like a map to me-
crossroads etched across my skin
in purpling reds and browns;
a timeline that reminds me of how far I have come,
and what I have gone through to get here.
Sometimes, I look at them
and can see where I need to go next-
for each scar has its own story,
and its own lesson.
So, if you see me
on the streets,
arms bared and waving in the wind-
just know that these scars are mine,
my journey,
my burden to bear;
be happy for me-
not sad for the person you think I am-
I know where I've been,
and I know where i'm going.

Its not so much sadness more the disappointment of thinking I meant something to you and thinking that if I smiled wide enough you would notice my lips and that would make you think about kissing me because all I really wanted was for you to kiss me, but thoughts like that they ricochet off the walls in your head like lead bullets until they fall away into pieces and the impulse was so fleeting it was barely even there, but I still have the image of your lips and your skin branded into my mind and filling my head like wine and I want to get drunk on you and everything that we could have been. But with your blue eyes and my brown hair we were like night and day and when it came to love I was a summer's day and you were December 5th when it snowed and snowed and my lips went blue and you could have made them warm again but your heart didn't beat like mine and now mine is a weak drum beat and yours pounds for someone else and with all this spilled ink that you'll never see I wish you would have just kissed me.

In the folds of the hills
and hollows
of my mind,
I remember a time
when you were free.
You were of the sweetest color
known to me.

No man could catch you;
I'm not even sure we tried.
It was such a sight
just to watch you
spread your wings.

Like a bird
you could fly
circles so high,
blue as the sky,
and free as the wind.

I knew someday
you would leave,
fly away,
no longer free;
my mountain bird
on a breeze.

r ~ 6/30/14

How do the wounded ones find a love
that will heal their brokenness,
when no one wants to cut themselves on all of the jagged pieces?

Find your way into my cracked and tired heart,
and make me whole again.

Remind me what it's like to be alive.

You left the light on in my soul,
and it beckons me.
You are the faintest cry, the smallest hope,
the last ray of sun to light up my world and
then you're gone.
Stay and soothe the fire in my aching heart,
as it burns the brightest for you.