There once was
a moth that
had wings
of crystal
and when
he tried to fly,
he always dropped to the ground
and shattered into a million pieces.

Sometimes, I feel like that moth.

But I look into your
eyes and see
the
magic
that rests there
and I remember that
moths are beautiful, and
even when broken, crystals
are beautiful, too.

We have things in our life that are precious
They are the parts of us
That make us who we are
The things we will never forget
They make us whole and leave a scar
A seed plants itself in your heart
It happens without your control
But suddenly it’s there
It’s a delicate thing that gives you joy
It doesn’t matter if it’s imperfect
But you never want to lose it
Our lives will consist of these pieces
That are like dandelion seeds
We feed them love without thinking
From the core of our being
Without just one, we aren’t whole
Why can’t we hold them all together
So that forever we have it all
Inevitably time blows like the wind
Each fragile seed flies away
We can dance around to catch them
But love was never ours to hold
It must be free to live and breathe
To create and to pass away
Every part of our soul that we have fed
That feeds us and makes life worth it
Belongs to the maker of the wind
The One that is greater than it all
Who holds everything in balance
The core that each life belongs to
That very heart of Love
Saves every smile and tear
From the beginning to the end
And is painting a beautiful portrait
As the breeze blows each moment away
So that when we look back at our life
We see the precious memories
Blessings that never truly disappeared
It starts but doesn’t end bare
Loving, remembering, painting
Until your picture is complete
A dandelion in God’s hand
With every part that made you...you

Sometimes
when I look in the mirror
i'm startled to see
me

When
I scrub off the pen lines
odd bits of makeup
all that's left is me

I stand there
bare and trembling
these are the pieces of me
and maybe I'm starving

but at least
I can feel myself smiling
because
these are the marks of my survival

To my abuser,

I know you will never
be attached to me
the way I am attached to you,

but dear,
that's because you are broken
and you're addicted to
projecting your pain,

and I'm here picking up
all of my pieces,
trying to heal.

i sit here in bed, staring at the ceiling above me.

the thought of you floats into my mind,

the way the wrinkles form around your eyes when you laugh.

the way your hazel eyes look in the sunlight, changing color at times from green to brown. i would always grab your chin and look into your eyes while you moved them around so i couldn't see.

sometimes i would stare at you while your worked and smile whenever you would get excited and say "i really do this"

when it was time to sleep, I would sometimes run my fingers through your hair to soothe you to sleep. you'd wrap your arms tight around me and id smile while burying my head in your chest.

my favorite things to do with you would be watching movies while being wrapped in each others arms, going out for walks, those rare times you take me for a long drive.

everything slowly changed,

you stopped sending me cute messages.
you stopped caring about my feelings.
you stopped hugging me at night.
you stopped going out with me.
you stopped holding my hand.
you stopped sharing things with me.
you stopped wiping my tears from my eyes.

your heart that I once held my in hands was pulled back while you still held onto mine. however it slipped out from your hands and you left all the broken pieces on the ground for me to clean up and piece back together.

never ending possibilities
of you, and i;
tearing you apart in pieces,
scattering away your happiness.

I got used so much with your words that it’s the only thing that I’m trusting between us. But by the time you hold me with your arms, I never thought I could love you more than I am giving.

I admit, the world is really scary for us, yet there were no days that went by of me thinking ‘why’d you still choose me?’. But I never heard you stutter on how much you would love to choose me countless times.  

Here we are, hiding under our blankets while sharing the moments being alone together and how we just realized we’re too comfortable with our own skin.

But blankets can’t hide us long, can it?