as the man slowly took the roll from his lips, letting the smoke drift into the lights. still his breath produced puffs as it touched the night air. he watched the cold mix with the warmth of the smoke, dissipating and dancing itn the sharp, chilling wind. to the stars his eyes did carry to the yellow sky above, the hot stump between his fingers began to burn now on his skin. 'til he smelt the putrid smell coming from his numbed hand below. and with that smell and the city lights and the smoke that rose above he realized something he never before had from the loud streets and yelling cabs. that the world wasn't all that beautiful, he thought with tearful eyes, the pretty was wearing off, and the sky above that he used to love was absent of all stars

I am not smart like the other girls.

I am not as pretty,
nor as charming,
or sweet.

I am not like the other girls.


I never will be.

- t.s.

They say be your own kind of beautiful
But what if I am not
What if the person who said so had the courage only because they were beautiful.
Whereas I am not
" Oh my God you look so pretty," they say to my friend. Not to me.
Because I am not.
" What is on the inside is what matters," she said.
Then why do I still get left behind?
Because I am not
"Your heart is beautiful," he said.
But what if I want to be beautiful on the outside too.
But I can't
Because I am not
I am nowhere near. So far. Far away from beautiful.
Can't build confidence. I can only build walls to conceal. Conceal emotions and ugliness.
Because I am not beautiful at all.

When my umbrage lush
so costly is yer hush
with the mischief in blood
really only a maiden wish
with me whose ireful dish
doesn't set me further atone  
in the skin now shine tight
still anymore I play again
so with another day apart
I hire a myriad in you.

I am no back burner girl
I better be taking up the whole stove
I want what we are cooking to feed a multitude
I want it to be good enough and big enough
to share and pass around
I want my meat slow cooked and laced with butter
Dripping and falling off the bone
Everyone seems to be looking for a microwave meal
Which really is just being afraid and settling
Scared to not get that home cooked meal right
But here is the thing about a slow cooked meal
You get time to reverse your mistakes
You get to soak some things in
And the warmth it gives you
Surpasses all your desires to be right and perfect
Allowing you to just surrender into what is
Giving you understanding that the bitter complements the sweet
That it is just as necessary.

So I want to have fought with you before we had ***
And when we do get there
I want to break upon each other
Because we are practicing letting go
I want to know what happens when you blackout drink
And I liking knowing how you kiss other girls
I hope you know how I am when I am thirsty
I want you to know what it looks like when I am careless
And how it goes when I pick myself back up
I need to know the exact flushing shade of your shame
I want you to know how I hide mine
I want to know what it is to doubt you
I would also like to know what it is to forgive you
Or for you to have to forgive me

I don't want you in the bar bathroom
I don't want to be bent over holding the wall up with eyes closed
I wanted to be so deep in your eyes that it truly feels like we are one
I want you in my bed
Completely naked, physically and emotionally
With sunlight pouring through the window
I don't want to be ******* for an ******
I want to meander and explore and be fascinated
I want to be so in tune with you that when you opened yourself to me
I get to appreciate every beautiful
and even ugly molecule of it.

Running trees and sun rays,
wind brushing and pressing on to my skin
Saline taste, that will be with me, always.
But a genuine smile will be a sin.

Yes, I am almost there,
where i found myself,
where i found them crystals, so rare.
Before that i was hidden in the shelf.

My sorrow and pain will wash away,
the second I touch that ground.
The power of the mask will be tamed ,
and the masked people will be astound.

Loving people and their vibes.
The epoch of my past will be revived.
The fruit of jollity, again, ripes
And the agony resigns

But something scares my heart.
The goodbyes.
Will I be able to start again after the depart?
Would I have to, again, live in lies?

No! My mind is ready to take it all.
To absorb the pain of the departure.
It will sure be a hard fall,
but it will merely be a fracture.

So, yes, I'm here, where i found myself,
where I found them, my rare crystals,
who pushed me out of the shelf.
But the departure will hurt me with a pistol.