And its spring
with birds chirping,
high or low but you would be smiling
with the force that unfolds smelling so wonderful
beauty all around you
and you see only the wounds!
why? why do you do that to yourself?
I know You no longer jump with joy as the seasons reshape.
But someday you might recall that the beauty within yourself
and let the blooming takes place from inside out.
Let seasons remould  you,
let all the past fall away,
and the buds bloom throughout your way
with no validation to sway.
Just you within you blooming with the butterflies turned on nearby.

It's the little things in life
Which can slowly crush the soul
The will to fight, the old desires
Ever changing and growing older

Be it in the misunderstanding
Or the mistreatment of others
Or the values to which you so preciously hold

I find its better to take the time
To reshape the clay
Rather than to let yourself be bothered
By the deconstruction of your most beloved mold

I gently rest on you my hands,
to reshape you, like the ocean does the sand.

I gather your wrists in my palms.
Lying skin to skin, pushing shudders through our calm.

My blistered smile, revised, renewed.
Color returns to me. I regain my hue.

For the longest, I tried to refuse.
I claimed the smile on my face, was not at all because of you.

You must have done something right.
or filled some sort of gap.
because every noise that's not your voice,
just sounds like breaking glass.