the only way you can hate, is to love
hate is love
betrayal is trust
we were one

the words, like fire in my mouth
left scars
to keep you, i had to lose myself

but was i holding onto you
like a child that grips their teddy bear
to save them from the never ending darkness
or were you holding onto me
like a child clenching a bag with a fish
wondering what will happen if you shake it

and just like that child's foolish hope of the teddy bear protecting them
it's all just pretend
an illusion that we wrap around our hearts to shield from feeling

your words have become cobwebs of lies stuck to the walls of my mind
hands that hold my head below the surface of the lake
the lake made by the darkest parts of my mind

the soft and gentle hands that once held mine are now calloused and cold
they no longer create
instead
they destroy

it was never supposed to be like this

i squeeze the teddy bear
you shake the bag
the lake fills my lungs
i'm going to drown
my fault
your fault

we were both
too
heartless

my apology that i gift to you
is made from the tears i've shed these past few years

my love is this gift
that i hope
you accept

Thanks for your gift,
love the bruise
you left on my soul.
I will wear it like my favourite tattoo
cause it'll say the story of you!

"Looking at you seeing God's precious gift worth keeping."

Though you are both gone
From this Earth;
There's a gift you gave me
At my birth.

It fills a place
In my heart.
I felt it there
From the start.

You passed to me
Your wisdom, kindness, honesty.
And the passion
For writing poetry.
I cannot tell you
Just what that means.

The flutter of a Butterfly
Will always be
A beautiful sight
And the symbol of your memory
In my soul and in my mind.

In my heart
I will always feel you there,
Because a Grandmother's Love
Is the everlasting gift you shared.

Thank you for your examples & legacy.
Thank you for inspiring me.
Thank you both for sharing your life
Through written words and poetry.
And thank you both for your
Grandmother's Love you left with me.

🦋💜🦋
©KSS 1/22/2021

I don’t know when it started.
I guess it was always there,
my ability to feel ones energy.
My ability to read tarot cards.
People, even complete strangers, are shocked at my
pinpoint accuracy.
How is it possible that I dream and my dream
becomes a reality?
Through vibrations and voices, I hear statements,
I feel what Spirit wants me to deliver.
A year before my mom went to heaven, I heard
A voice loud and clear, “this will be her last Thanksgiving.”
November 2021, my mom went to be with the Lord,  
a few days before Thanksgiving.
Why was I chosen with this extraordinary gift?
Why was I chosen to deliver messages?
I channel messages and feel spirits near.
But I’m glad I can hear them and not see them.
I’ve dreamed of loved ones coming into my sleep,
Passing on messages for me to deliver.
Honestly, I think it’s pretty cool, my abilities
have gotten stronger through the years.
I am happy that a part of me can do such a
wondrous thing.
People may not agree with me using my gift,
at first I felt the same way, but people are being helped,
their concerns are being put to rest. I am blessed when I
help a person who needs answers.
Like it or not, I am here to stay, or at least my
Intuitive abilities are.

...you could have been
...every single word waiting to win the heart of another
...a gift saved for a special reason
...sometimes sentimental but often too shallow
...other times too deep -  i don't know what it means
...a gift saved to be given away
...not expecting anything and always hoping for the best

boredom was the only monster underneath the bed at home
it creeps up so fast if you're not careful
it'll set so thick in the air
a knife can cut through it but it will not get rid of it

the **** was something she knew all along

it's the fabric in the boxes that give it an upper cut
the paint on a percaline figure that blinds its site
the recipes in a box that cut away at it slowly
the tomatoes to pick, to eventually throw at it
the colored pencils; the shank of creativity

the boredom will crawl away and bother another family
it preys on other houses
of the mom's that don't know how to get rid of it
and only flinch when they look the assassin in the eyes

I could live off the evergreen on a weak bet
or a whisper in a library that wasn't for me
I'll take off in the dead of night if it needed to be
without shoes or a backpack if it was necessary

the euphoria of the soil beneath my feet
and the sun feeding me all that I need
a place where the fog will never clear
but is never the symbol of gloom

the trees speak to me in code during the day
and let me know if they do make a sound when they fall
if I stay still long enough I too will be the woodlands
and the woodlands will be me

let the mushrooms grow off my back
and the spiders web between my fingers
petrichor the only fragrance I know
as I spit blossoms on the ground

I'll sit in silence and think of it all
for one thing is certain though:
the biophilia will eat you alive
but the exception is just so