If my life were a number
line—for example—

My life starts: 0
I laugh for the first time: +2
I yell at my mom: -3
I win in school: +10
I lose a job: -11

Am I really the sum of these
parts
the absent space of
my negative numbers
in opposition to the positives

Or

Am I more of an absolute value kind of girl?

Cross the faded line where the
Sea meets the sand, stand
Between your world and our lives,
Doubt never the power beneath you,
Within you.

Deny yourself nothing pertaining to
Pleasure. May the wind kiss you,
May the sun warm until it burns you and
May your lovers never hurt you.
Rain will hide your blush if you
Can learn to enjoy the chill.

Sounds of your breath can
Bring you comfortable proof of
How deeply the universe loves you
In the deafness of coastal cities.

Tell those you’ve never known
That I love you, take ownership
Of your stand-in position as a mouthpiece
Of the hypothetical heavens,

Hold no contempt for what is
Uncontrollable, weather as an
Obstacle, creeping fears and
Bad drivers. There is
Nothing which can permanently
Stop them but acceptance of
Their inherent right to exist
and immediate cause for dismissal.

Love, for you can never regret it.

There are so many ways to learn and grow,
to challenge one’s views of life, of death,
of the time in between.

At times, yes, there is a harshness to the wind,
a bite in your mother’s words and an unrelenting squirrel
emptying your bird feeder, but
know that there will be reward for your
continued generosity of thought,
and your assumption of the best in everything.

Given patience, the universe reaches out with gentle touches,
leaving offerings of love in the form of smooth pebbles,
pigeons and friends who offer to buy lunch.

We must learn to accept
the love we are offered,
no matter how unconventional.
Seek this love, be it in the form of a high five,
or in extra napkins for your glovebox,
in petting friendly stray cats.

Find love everywhere
and accept it, because those moments are the other half of the transaction.
Where you offer up time, the universe looks to compensate your loss.

Accept the spare dime in your cup holder, the acorn cap left on your windowsill
and the smiley face drawn on your cup,
as signs that the love you put out is equally
and fully returned by the world.

Bulb tickles in the darkness,
Its light are tinkling in shadows,
Up, up, up above!
It shows high and swim in the dark,
It lights up the darkest day you ever have.

@Wizards_Pen

She wonders what I see in her?
I see the breeze gently tugging at her hair, loose strands floating.
Or the bright colors of her eyes, glistening like morning dew.
The way her freckles draw me in, begging for me to count them.
Yet those are superficial, but not trivial.
She's like a spring flower, full of life and vibrancy.
It's a wonder each and everyday I see her.
She so brave,  growing in the autumn, with cold spiteful winds and harsh freezing emotions of those around her.
If I were a gardener, I'd move her inside for the winter and shelter her.
But she would lose her tenacity and strength.
I watch her struggle and offer what comfort I can, because unlike a flower she is capable of changing and adapting.
I can only watch and hope that she continues to bloom beautifully

A juvenile unicorn dropped his fadeless horn. They covered it with the ivory glaze and hid inside some savory persipan.

He bought her that concentrate of the sweet smile, of the everyday fairy-tale appearance.

Now
she
breaths
erratically, and
the apricot tinge is melting with
her plump skin
because of hot
air.

All of the sudden she giggles, and the giggles jingle like crystal shoes.
The fairy in batiste sticks a kiss on his lips.

They definitely adore
their kisstick.

they are like constellations of stars
flung across the infinity of my cheeks.

they are like suns and moons
my face is the cosmos.

my face is a blank canvas
and they are the paints.

my face is the water
and they are the ripples that run through it.

my skin is my own
and they are there.
even when i don't want them to be
they will be.

just like everything else, normal.

I sit in the red rocking chair on the front porch
Back and forth
Rocking and feeling the wind move across my skin
I look out at the trees and the pond
Tinged with gold as the sun sets
I hear the windchimes
And the sound almost brings me to tears
For the moment is so beautiful
This is how it is supposed to be

I sit in the red rocking chair on the front porch
Back and forth
Rocking and feeling the wind move across my skin
I look over at my dad
Eyes sunken and body smaller than ever
I look over at my mom
Her heart pain spilling out of her eyes
I hear the windchimes
A beautiful sound that I wish would stop
For this moment isn’t beautiful

I hear the windchimes but the beauty is lost on me
All I can think about is how badly I wish I was living in a beautiful moment
Instead of this one
But that’s the thing: beauty exists regardless
The windchimes make beautiful music on a sunny day and during a storm
They don’t care what’s going on, they do what they were made to do
It’s up to me to hear them out

m.h.