They call me a sinner,
           all because of,
                   the sin inside of you
                           that still thrives in you,
                                  as I strive,
                                          to emerge, from
                                                 the ashes from hell
                                                         you left me to burn in.

writing doesn’t come to me in all the most conventional moments i guess
staring at myself in the bathroom mirror
feeling thoughts approach me stronger than they have in a while

i mutter a quiet, “what is happening”
i haven’t felt this way in a while
followed by a more assured, “i need to write”
this is the only way to combat the noise

you see, for me, writing isn’t fueled by every day occurrences, or inspiration from the world around me
it’s fueled by my body being engulfed by thoughts
happiness, sadness, anger, anything really
thoughts standing in my brain, crawling into my face, jumping into my throat, heart, lungs,
until they’ve taken over

i can’t control when i write, just like i can’t control when thoughts come
why did they come today?
maybe it’s because i didn’t have someone next to me when i woke up
maybe it’s because i’m unsure of what the future holds

whatever the case might be,
i want to thank you, thoughts
thank you for giving me the power to write
and i want to thank you, self
thank you for not dismissing thoughts

A simple Hi, can be more powerful than silence to someone.

Prosperity is a silent snowfall
On a winter night
Building slowly flake by flake
And the whole world
In the morning
Is a white carpeted wonderland

Prosperity is patient growth

Prosperity is a mighty glacier
Moving imperceptibly
Year by year
Carving through solid rock
And easily clearing
Any obstacles in its path

Prosperity is power

Prosperity is a mountain range
Packed with winter snow
Delivering water week by week
To the valleys below
With vibrant rivers and streams
Bringing nourishment
Month by month

Prosperity is giving

The way the music made her head sway-
effortless beauty
Each melody met her movements,
magnetically greeting each other,
as if this time and place,
this way and reason,
had been looking for her, her whole life.
The walls moved farther away from her,
everyone in the room stealing glimpses for themselves.
An aura protected by the frequencies of love,
her hands followed the curves of her own body.
Hands that gently tugged on her hair to connect with the intensity,
forbidden sensuality of the eyes, mind, and body.
Beware of the girl who creates a story out of a moment,
she holds the power to turn raindrops to hurricanes,
and a kiss to a lifetime.

I've met girls who swooned over guys
"Oh my God, he gives me butterflies!"
When I wanted to be moved by stormy skies.