Hands shaking
heart broken
not by a lover
but by someone other

so lost
so hurting
i'm tired of feeling
i'm tired of thinking

I will just go to sleep
and it'll all be gone
if I close my eyes I can escape
but not fast enough

I wake up and cry
because right before my eyes
there he is
haunting me

Despite all the hurting
Despite all the bad
Despite all the leaving
Despite all the sad

There is still healing
There is still good
There is still staying
There is still those who would

rather stay weak
when they could be strong
those who chose right
when they could chose wrong

there are two kinds of people in this world
those who do
and those who don't.

My father kept a rose in his bible
To symbolize him and my mother
I remmeber when he pulled it out
When I was little at churce,
I asked him what it was and
I forgot the whole story but I remember
It involved him and my mother
I can still smell the aftertones of rose
But it was brown and decade,
Withered from years of protection
Between pages as a bookmark
I realized I am the same for the ones I loved,
As little to none would admit it
I am that rose,
I am the withered bookmark you keep
I am the reminder of when you were human,
When you first started,
When you thought you knew everything,
When the simple things were enough.
I am the reminder of who you are.
I don't have a bible filled with bookmarks
I have a body colored with the reminder that
I am in fact human.
I will continue to add to it until I decide,
When I meet the one.
I will no longer need to print myself with bookmarks
But rather take photographs with my eyes
And feel with my hands and lips.
Taste and feel and experience why
Those other bookmarks are not here
But a reminder of how far I have come

that night
started out with
a stolen kiss in his pick-up truck
ended with me clawing at a seat
and screaming at a reflection
that was faking actions and
sighing into her
heart and soul
listening to a voice that said

"He doesn't love you,"

as I began to sink into
a leather sea
and dreamed of becoming
a part of the upholstery
the only thing
that has ever
held me gently

I’ve pulled men away from religion
as they sunk their teeth into my soul
gave them hope with every photo
as I simultaneously cut tiny holes

They called me Snowflake
so pretty but so cold
or maybe they called me
Snowflake

Because of the way I melt
so quick on their tongues
as I melt down their throat
and fill their empty soul

You always think of yourself as the storm,
and I've come to believe I am as well.
Together we are our storm,
And everyone will always tell us we are
terrible for each other because of it..
But together I want to brave this chaotic storm with you.
We will be a chaotic beautiful mess of a storm together,
even if we tear everything apart along the way.