She faded into the shadows
        of the love
             she wished she could forget
She solemnly swore
        to drown herself
               in the memory of her regret
Her eyes burned at the sight
         of the lost love
             she'd erased years ago
Her thoughts wondered
         and traveled to places
               she never meant to go
Life attacked her before
         she was even ready
                to feel the pain
Love forced her into the storm
         before she'd even
                 experienced **the rain

The rain runs,
spreading the stone polished
and clean.
Like this, you must
let the water slip
on the back of your unkissed neck,
the curved dips between
your fingertips,
nestle
in the soft folds around your waist
that you hate,
and stumble on your collarbones,
your genetic mistakes.

Let it slide on the stretch marks
skimming your thighs
like fog diffusing across the hills,
and inside the grooves of your too-large ears,
form little streams.
Let it wash away
and unearth these parts of you
where you don't want to look,
where your lotion never reaches.

These are the little patches of soil
you must water with care.
Flowers, flaws -
how much is the difference?
One day a lover will give them a kiss
and you will understand
why we are so tender
with broken things.

Let them bloom, and see yourself
wilder, as you grow,
for gardens are most beautiful
with some ferociousness.