you are everybody’s first love.
even if they had never
loved
a single person in their life before,
they
loved you.
the love you must
have felt was
a love I have yet
to feel.
because even though
you are light and hope and
good nature has made
its home in
you,
I have yet to bloom.
your heart drums
with rose petals and your
hands move with Mother Nature
herself.
and despite your allure and
my unrecognized beauty,
you
still began to
bring out the best
parts of me and
match them with every
beautiful part of
you
and then
you took the parts of me
with less sunbeams and more
rainclouds
and made a garden.
you
are the feeling i get
when i put on my favorite
pair of ******* with the favorite
matching bra and look in the
mirror like the
badass *****
from hell that
i am and finally have  the
confidence to know
that
i
am beautiful.
not because
you
felt it but because
you
made me feel it too.
and that was a lesson
that i needed to learn
and a lesson that
you
taught me. because
i am only capable
of accepting the love
i think i have earned
so first
i must
look into that mirror
with those ******* and
that beautiful matching bra
and be 100%, unabashedly
me and then
i will be filled to the
brim;
first with the love i have
given to myself and
then with the
flowers
you
have helped me to grow.
you
are the thing
first poems are made of and
the familiar warmth of
first loves and the
softness of that
favorite
pair of red ******* and
matching bra.
you
are the mirror that
reflects the garden that
we have grown.
you
are my first love and
i am my last love
and together we are
every bit of love inside me now.
so here’s to
every late night of consolation
and kind words
to slowly but
surely make me
understand
the importance of mirrors and gardens
and here’s even more
to hard work and
getting to where
i
and we
need to be.  
progress is a beautiful
thing.  and
you,
even more so.

Everyday i died.
Everyday i doubted
Everyday i felt insane
Everyday i lived in fear
Everyday i hated myself
Everyday i didnt eat... sometimes.
Everyday i bent to your will
Everyday i suffered in silence
Everyday i hated you
Everyday i couldnt take it
Everyday i thought of running
Everyday i dreamed of what it could be like
Everyday i lost my trust in everyone
Everyday no one could understand
Everyday i lost myself
Everyday i crumbled
Everyday i felt ashamed
Everyday i couldnt recognize myself anymore

BUT NOW...

Everyday i get a little stronger,
Everyday i get a little braver,
Everyday i hurt a little less,
Everyday i feel a bit more free,
Everyday i trust a bit more,
Everyday i feel a little wiser,
Everyday you control me less and less,
Everyday im a little happier,
Everyday i find myself
Everyday i feel proud
Everyday i follow my heart
Everyday i find a bit more of myself
Everyday i put back pieces you stole
Everyday i heal...
Everyday i grow...
Everyday i am reborn...
Everyday i am more me than i was before
Everyday i am thankful for what ive survived
Everyday i am alive...
Everyday i am living in spite of you.

when did your eyes turn from blue to grey?
what a beautiful grey
a cold grey
a wet October grey
an "I forgot my umbrella" grey
a "Should we stay home?" grey
a day consumed with nostalgic sadness grey
a familiar reminder of rejection grey
a hopeless new romance grey

as grey as the ash from your cigarettes
as grey as that woolen hat that I'd wear while I waited wondering when you'd wander home
as grey as my best shirt you stripped off of me on a grey night

i fell in love with a mixture of black, blue, and muddy pearl
it sparkled against me when the sky clouded up
and we kissed until our vision blurred

I don't remember how vivid colors were before you.

Stretched out like starfish in oceans of meadows
with fractal goggles for eyes
we followed the footsteps of the breeze in the grass
below bismuth bugs in nacre skies

our minds began bobbing between
the confetti of chattering crowds
sheltered by the shade of the breathing pea green trees
and cyan sky spilling marshmallow clouds

slips of thought escape our lips
but trapped are we in a body
as mouth, nose, ears, eyes and fingertips
make their best guess at reality

perhaps there are more truths than sides in a circle
an infinite edge
for what is true if i can only sense?
is the tangerine sun really red
or simply a translation of a wavelength?
does hot and cold exist?
is a dish really sweet or sour?
soft because our fingers can’t feel the bumps?
or odourless because we’re ill and dour?

We fall into ourselves but stop and smile
because life is a surreal serendipitous surprise
so we bathe in the floating music
behind closed kaleidoscopic eyes