the artist's pen creates lines
a speech bubble drawn smooth
easy, geometric
a thought bubble drawn bumpy
complicated, jumbled
what happens inside
processed and simplified
smoothing over the wrinkles

The burn

of the smoldering

embers of deceit

is eternal.

With every second chance
        I'm given,
                        I only
        make another mistake.
when will I
      Learn?

Outside the rain poured.

The clouds were a dark grey, forcing me to see an image of how I felt inside.

I watched as the rain streaked the windows, reminding me of the tears that had once streaked my tear-stained cheeks.

I felt connected to the storm.

Like somehow it was speaking the words I couldn't force myself to tell you.

I could only hope you would hear the rumble of the thunder and see the strike of the lightening as well.

Maybe then you would realize the storm you put me through when you broke my heart.

Someday the tempest will pass.

The sun will break through the clouds and shine once more, reflecting light into the darkest parts of my heart.

I will blossom like a flower after a spring shower.

And you'll see me there, in the rainbow, *reminding you of the promises you broke.

Your eyes are telling a tale
Everywhere you go

Your steps are making rhythms
silent and slow

Your head was never high
Nor does your voice

Every tremble of your hands
Every quiver on your lips
I know.

There's something to be said
about climbing a mountain-
the calmness,
one-ness (if that's a word)
the mindful majestic solitary sensation,
meditating at the top,
(for however long it takes)
climbing down calm,
knowing yourself better
than you ever did before,
content, confident,
and ready to face the world...

Have you ever stood on the edge of a cliff
And considered jumping?

Not because you are suicidal, but simply because you wonder
If
Maybe humans really can fly, but the ones who jumped and found out

Flew away because they realized how much better it was to live flying than to live dying