I am fragile,
Yet I have known a sturdy heart.
And because I've had to carefully piece my heart back together in order to love you,
I know I am mendable.
At first, I was near positive I had only magnified your love for me because of my insecurities
But now I am everything except apprehensive.
My love feeds on your love
And that is how I know it exists.
This is how I know love exists:
Because one dark sky,
3,000 stars,
88 magnificent constellations,
and an extremely uncomfortable park bench told me so.
That night I walked barefoot through the tall grass until the feel of your warm breath on my neck lifted my heart so high I swore I might never find the ground.
And since that night,
I still never have.

I never liked writing about beautiful things like the way your voice echoes in my ears when you come over in the morning to wake me with soft kisses. Or how we used to hold hands at 3 AM trudging blindly through December's icy breeze and how worth it the bitter cold wind was just to spend some time alone with you. Or how in the spring time, when the ice and sleet melted away exhaustingly into the ground, flowers would sprout up following your every step. They, too, knew your beauty. You're a 'worth it' type of person.
You see, I never liked writing about beautiful things because I never really knew how. My mind was a grave someone dug up and pushed me in and I could never find  way to climb out. I would sit there, my body cold and full of rage and I would stain the walls with dark words. Destruction was the only form of creation I knew until your singsong voice lifted my heart so high I was dancing on the clouds.
You see, I never liked writing about beautiful things but you have features that every artist looks for in a muse. Your voice sounds like my favorite poem and if our love was a treadmill and the only way to keep it alive was to run, I'd never stop, even when my legs become heavy and shaky.
I never liked writing about beautiful things but I know how you whisper 'I love you' in a sleep daze and I adore your mouth when you lean to kiss me in a sleepy daze. You are beautiful when you are innocent. You are the only beautiful thing I've ever written about. And I will not be afraid of you or your scars as I know you don't fear mine. I will write a dictionary of all the words I've ever thought to describe you. I will write a novel about the scar under your eye. I will write poem after poem telling you, telling the world, that you are beautiful and I am not afraid to write beautiful words anymore. I will make sure to hold you on your bad days, my arms will bandage. I will take every photo you dislike of yourself and tape them to my mirror to show you I think you're incredible. I will brush every fallen eyelash off your cheek, wipe your mouth when it's ***** with crumbs, assume the role of caretaker when you're sick. I will do beautiful things for you because I can.
I will love you like I was never broken.

I know some things are better left unsaid but I'm having a difficult time cutting the transparent rope that tied my heart to yours.
I keep thinking: Should I call? Should I write? If I show up at your doorstep with a handful of feelings would it somehow make you want me again? I never knew that a heartbreak was something you could physically feel. I find myself curled up in bed with both hands over my heart as if I'd been shot. Because I know the arguments felt we were digging broken glass out of our palm lines but I've never known a pain  like this. A pain so surreal I can feel it everywhere; it stings my heart, it sends throbs throughout my entire body, it pains my mind.
I dream of you every night. In my head we're dancing through open fields full of sunflowers. The sun reflecting our smiles, so bright and miraculous. That's how I know, deep in my core that I was happy with you. I've never known a love so magnificent it lights up a room full of nameless people. I've never loved a man so fully, to where every inch of my body screams his name.
Our hearts are connected in the most beautiful way: an invisible string. It can wrap around trees, buildings, and stretch across oceans and that string can never be broken or severed. Because the love two soul mates have is endless. They remain connected no matter the circumstances and their love lingers on

Objects in life they call to me, To tell their story that eyes can’t see. Feelings too, ooh how the heart bleed, A long silent travel of a tumble ****. Treasures and trinkets, Gods creatures and land, When pen meet paper there’s never a plan. Shall I shock, or keep safe, with words of charm, Be political, maybe cynical to all those that harm. Bring some light to a soul, Too dim to let go. Or inspire a dream with a promise to uphold, Or an adventure…exciting With all the things that unfold. All the time they scream At poor ole me, To be the first acknowledged By these ABC’s. In Ink, lead or computer screen.

By: Anthony BamBam!! Thomas aka God’s Monsta -

There were millions of other people that could have been here on this Earth in your place, but it was you that made it. It was you against all odds; blind and in the dark, you chased Gods Love and won.
We all love to be Winners and Champions. It breaks our heart to be called a Loser; that's why God made the beginning of our Existence a big race against millions, a race like you'll never be involved in again (millions entered, one (you) and only one (if your not a twin), Lived on, while the others perished. No one can or ever should call someone else a loser (we are a World of Champions)...because no race is more important than the race to Existence, and nothing won is more Valuable than the reward of God's Air, His Water, Grass, Mountains, our Universe, the Ability to and be Loved, but most of all and more importantly...God's Gift of Individuality and Choice.
We all are Winners, Champions of a Great Race Forgotten.

To call some one a loser is to call Our Great Creator and the manner in which we became to be, a lie.
By Anthony BamBam!! Thomas