i went back to the healing place

drove through town just before
5 o’clock, traffic slowed, i sped

i went back to the healing place

the one i felt i hadn’t needed when
for once i had trust, i rushed
to take seat, said hello to my friends
the varied thrush, the winter wren

i said
i went back to the healing place

just in time to see the sun laid rest
beneath barren branches scratching
cracks across a sky caressing dusk

with it i lay back myself and look up
at those familiar hawthorn branches
i must’ve traced a thousand times before

i went back to the healing place
and the healing place was there for me
once more

You are real.

My reflection is foreign, it’s haunted –

You are out there (I see you, I want you).

Lover’s caress spills traces of colour,

Making pain in my heart even duller.

Wishing idly (to touch you, to feel you),

I’m stuck here—this moment, my torment.

Help me heal.

You’re not a poet because you know those ‘fancy’ words
You’re a poet because every word you write comes straight from your heart

You’re not a poet because you feel alone
You’re a poet because pen and paper are your biggest companions

You’re not a poet because you understand emotions better
You’re a poet because you let them flow freely

You’re not a poet because people admire your work
You’re a poet because you write for your own contentment and not for people's consent

You are not a poet because you’ve failed in love
You’re a poet because you’ve been in love deeper than anyone else

You’re not a poet because you are strong
You’re a poet because you don’t hide your weaknesses

You’re not a poet because you can heal hearts
You’re a poet because you know what it means to be broken






              ©words of a withering soul

I faced the world at a young age,
I found those dearest to me to be complete strangers,
Society tried to cut me wings,
And when they grew back,
They burnt them,
And then left me injured alone,
To die,

I remember sitting alone in the dead of the night with my burnt wings,
Nothing but ashes surrounding me,
Scar tissue forming,
Blood falling,
Heavy breathing,
Screaming,
Pain,
So much pain,
It wouldn't stop,
I couldn't breathe,
I couldn't breathe no matter how hard I tried,
I tried to scream for help,
But no sound came,
It felt like I was drowning in my own tears,
Chest rising and falling,
Each breath felt as if it was the last,

But no I couldn't let them win,
Not like this,
They thought I was dead,
I was alive,
Barely,

I'm pretty sure death was sitting waiting for me to die,
But I was so stubborn,
I chose to stand,
No matter how bad it hurt,
I walked,
A trail of blood formed behind me,

My wings were gone,
But that wasn't going to stop me,
I built my own wings,
Built them out of gold,
So that no one could cut them again,
No one could burn them again,

My dreams are my own,
And I am never going to give up on them,
I look at the trail of blood,
That has long faded,
And it reminds me how strong I am,
And that your dreams are yours to achieve,
Don't believe a word they tell you,
How dare they try to cut your wings,
How dare they let their own get cut,

Let me leave you with this,
Fly darling,
Fly,
Reach for the highest sky,
And then space,

Your wings are your own,
And if you don't have them,
Build them,
No matter how long it takes

I layed myself out bare,
bracing for the sting of another open wound.
You only came with tools to mend,
a needle and thread.
With gentle hands,
you stiched together every hole in my heart with love.