Love is like an olympic torch,
it burns continually,
is never extinguished,
kept for the briefest of moments,
then simply passed on,
person to person,
lifetime to lifetime,
generation to generation.

me? capable of holding on? please.
I let go before it reaches two months.
I run away before I could ever possibly love someone as much as they could love me.
I used to think it was so easy for me to love,
but no.
it's not.
I will chase you.
chew you up.
make you think I'm head over heels for you,
kiss you until you're addicted,
then I'll spit you out,
heartbroken and confused.
I'm toxic and worthless.
I'm scared.
this is why I spend my days ******* around,
and I haven't even lost my virginity.
I'm toxic and worthless.
stay away from me, won't you?
because it may seem like they're the ones who hurt me,
but that's far from the truth.
I'm the ones who hurt them.

She…

Is...


Constantly searching for answers. Constantly questioning surroundings…..places…things.

Always curious.

Always distracted.

Mind bobbling and rattling with ideas. Ideas that come and go. But ones that never really stick.

She desires attention.

She’s not sure what kind. Just any kind.

She reaches out to people for validation of herself without knowing. For comfort.

Beautiful.

Wandering, sparkling brown eyes. Full lips. Bright smile. Lights up her face.

Upbeat.

In small ways and big ways.

Talented.

That’s scattered in different things. Poetic in certain emotions that are expressed.

Anxious.

For everything. Anything.

Aching for change. But changing nothing.

Excitement.

She shows. She likes.

Naive.

Her eyes light up to new things. Growing more curious. Unaware of consequences.

Unknown.
To others. Herself.

Stuck.

In her mind. In her expectations. In her demons. In her betrayal. In her regret.

She.

Is……

Yearning.

For self assurance. Accomplishments.

Guidance.

I…
Want to…


Show her realization. Reality. Art.

Beauty.

In herself. In her talent. In her aspirations.

Patience.

In her skills. In her growth. With her mind. With her future.

Peace.

Within herself. With her past. With her doubts.

Show her that….


She…
Is….

A Diamond in the Rough.

That she has to fall down. To get back up.

To brush herself off. To want to keep going.

On one path at a time…with one foot at a time.

To stop running.

In her mind. With her thoughts. With her feelings. With her analysis of herself.


That it is ok…

to move slow. To take her time. To perfect her craft. With one desire at a time.

She…

Is…

A work of Art that requires time.


She….

is….

Beautiful.

She’s brewing like rich wine
the older she gets
her each added faceline
my eyes satiates.

She’s huing like violets
purpling is her soul
tho older she gets
she's never too ole.

She’s frothing like nectar
honeying in core
feels endless this affair

I’m loving her more.

Why are we meant to look through
Rose-colored glasses

When roses are the color
of blood