Sometimes becoming an angel
Means you gotta go through a little hell

Is it worth ruining your life for a morsel of love?
Probably.

She was dangerous because she knew her power
She knew her power to heal from deep pain
She knew her power to withstand a storm
She walked through fire and came out alive on the other side
She knew what she was capable of enduring
She knew she had gone through everything that was meant to destroy her and lived to tell the tale
She was dangerous because she was unbreakable
And it’s hard to control a woman like that

In conclusion,
He gave me many material comforts.
And he gave me bruises on my body.
He would lend me his good will,
Not from love,
But for control.
I should have ran the night he pointed a gun at me.
Loaded or not. It should’ve been the end.
I’ve strove with him so tirelessly.
Given him second and third chances so preposterous it’s laughable.
I’ve waited patiently for him to be patient.
I’ve trusted him with heart, despite his brutish ways of stomping on what I give.
And the most maddening thing,
Is how he turned it all to make it seem like I was the only one at fault.
In conclusion, this is our conclusion.
Good night old friend.

Why does love feel like life and death are lurking inside you at the same time?

I crave an abundant life.
I crave good company,
Passionate kisses,
True joy and peace.
I crave freshness
I crave new perspectives
I crave movement, fluidity
And thankfulness.
I crave life.
I crave an abundant life.

it is surprisingly lonely
to be a passionate person.
as if no one cares to match your pace
no one feels as you do.
it seems as if you are burning alone

You will not find happiness in the material world.
You will die and your body will be placed in the ground.
Your possessions will be dispersed, bagged, sold or given away for free.
And all that will be left of you is a name and birth date through a death date.
You must live for another life entirely.
You must store treasures in another realm completely separate from the material one.
You have one life. Spend it wisely.

The secret to doing anything well?
Pour yourself into it.
Turn all your energy, time and effort.
Pick anything and proceed to expel all of yourself in the pursuit of that endeavor.
You will exceed what you thought you were even capable of.
Pouring your heart into it, that is how you yield great works.

The universe doesn’t yearn for you.
No, I promise you, it doesn’t.
Not one nebula or kaleidoscopic splash of imploded stardust across the black canvas of space cares for you.
Not one fiery ball of gas suspended by gravity cares.
The universe didn’t do anything for you.
The universe didn’t hear you.
The universe doesn’t know your name.
But, it’s Maker on the other hand...

She was a private girl.
She was shut behind the windows of her eyes,
Quietly observing all that fluttered by her.
She felt the sunshine more richly,
Tasted more sweetly,
Kissed more sincerely.
She was a private girl.
Many believed they knew her ins and outs
But they only saw the light that splashed across her surface.
Knowing nothing of her inner depth.
They thought “what a sunshiny girl!”
And that’s all she wanted them to think,
For the rest of her belonged to her and her alone.
An impenetrable ocean of hidden secrets

The saying goes
“I love you to the moon and back”
But, men have walked on the moon
And can walk on it again.
Therefore, I would never set such an easily accomplished boundary as the moon.
I love you infinitely.

Consistency
That’s the only difference between
The mediocre
And the master

She looked to the earth
And then to sky
The ground was too dull
She longed to fly
She pulled on her coat
And her soul spread it wings
The air in her heart
Grasping for higher things
Her hand reaching for heaven
And though she met her untimely fate
Her courage lives on in the hearts
Of all those who attempt to do something great

She was asleep
And it was to your benefit,
But she has awoken again.
The smoke is rising from her belly.
From her dark depths the fire is rumbling.
The power inside her is ready to be realized.
She, a docile and cold mountain,
Is ready to erupt.

The harder the fall
The grander the rise

Perhaps this is the least poetic thing I’ve ever uttered.
Sometimes love isn’t enough to make it through.

She was always victorious,
For she studied the art of seduction,
Because it requires more cunning,
Than the art of war.
Learn to ******.
Win every war.

The most dangerous opponent
Is a quiet one

Of course it was painful letting go,
But holding on, would’ve been a death sentence.

He wove himself a net of victimhood.
Promptly wrapped himself in his spindly web,
Screaming “Someone else threw this net on me!”

He used to bring her flowers
When her youth was in full bloom
She was ravished with fragrant colors
In her dewy faced afternoon
He used to bring her flowers
But as rose-petal girlhood began to atrophy
The flowers stopped arriving
The flowers vanished and so did he

I feel like an Audrey
In a world full of Marilyns

One can’t help but notice the staggering amount of people
Going broke,
To prove to other broke people,
That they aren’t broke.

Just leave me alone to slowly die.
It’s what you’ve been doing all along anyway.

Behind the veil of gauzy show
Gaze into the eyes that house the soul
Behind the masks we all wear
Inside the pain we all bear
There is a common thread
Woven through us all
Behind our facades
And our socially acceptable wall
We are all in need of something
Something greater than us
We all have holes
That need to be filled up
We all share wounded innocence
Behind our outward features
So be kind always
To your fellow broken creatures

I roll out of bed
And my bones all crack
A throbbing head
And quite a sore back
Ah yes, they say
“Age is gold.”
But from what I see these days,
It’s hard getting old.

Time is so fleeting.
And life is so short.
I regret how much time I’ve spent
Being selfish.
I regret how much time I’ve wasted
Nursing animosity.

Can a broken heart fully mend?
A shattered soul, fully heal?
Can one learn to not break, but bend?
And let old wounds finally seal?
Can words of torment ever be fully erased?
Tattoos they left in your spirit, made gone?
Can the image they painted of you, debased,
Ever be turned to right, from wrong.
Can forgiveness ever be found?
The years of pain melt away with the sun?
Or is it all too much to take back now?
Is it time to let go? To move on?

I guess he says he loves me.
I have a hard time believing only words.
It’s easy to get lost in wishes.
It’s easy to waltz with hope for too long.
Praying for a connection, not just an attachment.
Praying for even a morsel of my thoughts to be heard and not disregarded and disrespected to the highest degree.
I’m losing touch with reality.
And dancing in the pretty fantasy that maybe this is love.
Maybe I’m not wasting my time.
Maybe I’m not bleeding inside for no reason.
Maybe we can go to the sunshine.
But it seems impossible, when we are swallowed up and drowning in ever darkening waters.
Maybe this is love.
Maybe...

It isn’t love.
And it never was.
It was a lesson.
But not love.

Only a truly weak man would try to prove his strength by hurting a woman.

We can never be still.

We rise then we fall.

You are the sun I’m the moon creating a life time of tide with our gravitational pull

Though we push and pull this world would be lifeless without you ❤️

“Don’t cause a scene.”
Don’t give me a reason to

“Why don’t you just leave him?”
Any addict will tell you
It’s not that easy.

We made a promise to each other
And sealed our covenant with a kiss
Looking back now,
I never thought we’d come to this

It was his mistake,
He tried to embrace a girl
With fire woven into her hair.
Of course he got burned.

The world sparkles
Through the watery lens of tears
I am okay.
I am okay.

My only wish is to give you fervent love.
A love that seeps into every crack left by the frivolous entanglements that broke you.
And a worldly life that left you bitter.
To breathe a new life into you through it.
To refresh you.
That is my only wish.

My heart is not easily won.
So believe me when I say I love you,
I mean it with every fiber of my being.

He and I
Had the same heart
Beating in two separate chests

Dance in the dawning sun light
Feel the cool grass blades between bare toes
Today, you are free

There has indeed always been a sense of magic in the old house. Especially at dusk, as the setting sun steeps the estate in golden hues. The land was wild and luscious, seemingly unmaintained, embellished with wild chamomile and daisies. History wrote itself into every wall, every blade of dense southern grass, every calcified window and crackling chip of paint held, each in its right, a weightiness, an undeniable depth of bygone years. Martha stood in the old servants kitchen and sipped her coffee long and thoughtfully. The chairs weathered by time and countless night family sat on those cushions. Laughter still echoed in the rooms, ricocheting  off picture frames and pinging off Marthas near deaf ear-drums. She felt the years in the walls, she felt the years in her bones. How she would miss this home.

She's not the damsel.

She's the dragon.

A relationship is doomed
When just staying mad at each other is easier than saying
"I'm sorry.'

He abused himself
So of course he could abuse me

I cannot deny,
The man could materialize anything I wished for.
A passing fancy, an eye catching item could and did appear whenever in his finacial power to do so.
I could have anything...
I knew it too.
But in the end all that fluff was to compensate for his lack of emotional richness.
The lack of any character depth or owning a strong self-identity.
I was never hungry with the man.
My belly was always full.
But my heart was always empty.

He rippled "I don't understand you!"
"Of course you don't." she replied.
"Storms aren't made to be understood."