It is so sad to think
That the ones who self harm
who cut;
bruise,
burn,
purge,
starve,
are the most gentle.

Who would rather hurt themselves than anyone else..

Quiet and gentle



this apparition

of caring about

the wind and how

it howls through

the air at top speeds.



Quiet and gentle



this space inside me

when music isn't playing

when silence calms the mind.



Quiet and gentle



this clean atmospheric

liberation front

canton of rhetoric feelings

theoretically seeming

just in its cause.u

To my future children,
nothing in life comes easy
you will hear these words all the time.

To my boys,
treat the world with a gentle touch
be kind
do not let others
teach you the ways in which
they think boys ought to be.

To my girls,
i say the same
but in this cruel, cruel world
remember that you breathe fire
for that is the only way
you will make it out alive.

(October 12, 2016 // 2:48 PM)

We were so young.

And we were so fragile.

We knew we were too young, and because of it, too fragile.

But we were never gentle.

We were never gentle.

Like the wind,
passing freely,
gently caressing my skin.

Like the water,
my feet wallowed in,
fully encompassing me.

Like the sun,
with its rays of light,
warming my heart.

Like the moon,
in the nothingness of black,
dimly lit over me as I dream.

I'm reminded of you yet again;
I wish you were here.

my heart locked in a lonely rhythm
whistling through a thunder storm
realigning all the stars above
oh how I've felt so all alone
his gentle tender breeze now blown
for I humm bitter dreams no more

i want to hold your head in my arms.
run my fingers through your head of soft ribbons
i want to make you feel like you are everything
when you feel like you are nothing
breath slowly with me my dear
trust that i have been through this enough before to know what to do
this is just a moment
and a moment in this life becomes worthless

you wont love me like i love you
thats the honest truth
but let me cradle you in my arms
and whisper sweet tenderness
over and over
so it echoes in your mind
and bounces off the walls of your head
so you never feel unwanted
unloved
again.

The storm argues, the professing innocent sky
The angry drunk of lightning, grieving grey bruises on the clouds
Leaving Her too weak to do anything but cry

Hoping the blue she once knew might return

In the last of her efforts she stretches color,
Arking over the abuse of the sky

In an effort of promise, to love once again