Manifestation
Manipulation I can't
Distinguish between

I dreamt that I was in a cathedral I had never seen before
It was empty and serene
It was daytime, yet the candles were lit
The stained glass windows did not allow for too much light
I was wearing formal attire
It was then that I observed a child standing in the left isle
He seemed overcome by sadness and desperately lonely
The young boy came closer
At once he grasped me around my waist
He held me in a tight embrace
His little hands would not let me go
We were caught in a timespace
No words were spoken
Until the distraught boy broke the silence
Please, can I come home with you he pleaded
Though I recognised him from somewhere, I did not know him
Within a blink of an eye we were at home
The boy seemed happy to have found a safe dwelling
And I experienced a sensation of wholeness
Suddenly I woke from my dream within a daze
Trying to gather my thoughts
Trying to make sense of it all
Was it real or just a dream I wondered
Who was that child, and why did he look so incredibly familiar?
But the day had begun and the sun was bursting through the clouds
I stumbled to the bathroom, splashed my face with cold water ... looked in the mirror
At once I realised who the young boy was
It was me … Yes, me ...
I was the child who needed time and space to heal and grow
At an appointed time we met and merged
The pieces of a broken puzzle had come together
The inner child had finally come home

as her glass heart beats,
it cracks little by little
as her chest caves in.
she closes her eyes.
her deep, slow breaths
restore her aching body
as her chest straightens.
the cracking suddenly stops.
her soul glues the cracks
and her heart is whole again,
stronger than ever before.

The truth is I don't want to be a lingering after thought. A space that fills void. An unattainable purge of what you have been lacking. A comma in the break of a sentence, I've been in to many situationships to idealize anything less than romantic. To many almost & could have been something's. It's like a reflection of the sun but the heat never dissipates close enough for me to know it's real. The existence of it leaves my soul aching in hunger even though my belly is full. Maybe that's the difference of it, getting high off sugar and the other endorphins. One the body can sustain, the other just a flicker of a high that last as long as the burst of affection. To be desired is a supernova of lust. It's a star that burned out centuries ago but the light still fools you into believing it's present. To be loved is like the moon and all of its phases because even when the moon shows up in parts, you know it's wholly still there. Still yours. Still will rise again tomorrow.

once I was a waning crescent, pale and thin—incomplete
a silver sliver of light peeking unwanted in between the
folds of the velvet, midnight sky

and now, having gazed at my sun from a world away, I
am whole—I am full and complete—grand designs,
imperfections, craters—making me no less whole

when you are near it is not you that completes me,
but rather you who illuminates the parts of me I
thought were lost forever

the paradox that you both do and do not complete me
brings me as much comfort as the sun’s warm rays
on my cheeks and the moon’s cool gaze on my back.