You’re just like a balloon
That I wanted so dearly
Like a child so amused
With the feeling and its hues.

One day as I watch you
As distant as always,
I didn’t know it was the day
You’ll be wanting to stay.

I’m the child, you’re my balloon
We’ll forever stay in tune;
I dance with you under the sun,
I dream of you under the moon.

One day you flew away,
Another child wanted you to stay.
You left me, empty and lonely;
Feeling the mark from your string.

I picked a rose bud for you ,
I found it on a rose bed ,
it is not dead .
But  if you water it ,
and give it room to grow ,
it will blosom into something you don’t know .
For its buds will one day open ,
perhaps when you are curled up in bed ,
and you will think of me when I have gone ,
and all the things I said .

It’s been two years since we spoke last
and I must admit,
even though I’m happier,
I often think of it.

You made me a dumb actress
in your twisted game.
Gave me a role I didn’t want
and with it all the shame.

You lied to me more than just once
and I believed it all.
And in your weird and unreal game,
you made me feel so small.

I told you if you want me back
I need your respect.
You told me you would understand,
what I do expect.

But between all your sweet-talking
I then found out the truth.
Respect might be a word you know
but never understood.

And still, I’d like to see you.
Only once again.  
To show you that I do have all,
of what I wanted then.

I'm breathing slowly.

I begin
  to become
             undone  

whilst letting you love me.

It’s a gentle loving,
an act of giving.

We all have cracks
that are in need of filling.

I sip on my green tea
wishing for it to cleanse me.
Wishing for it, to cleanse out the oils and the misery I consume.
Wishing for it to break down my toxins.
Wishing for it ... to cleanse the sections of myself that even I cannot reach.

Green Tea

A substance that supposedly detoxes the belly, but not strong enough to detox the soul

Not strong enough to take away my shadows, my doubt, my ego or my woes.
A drink, not strong enough to hug my spirit at its loneliest hours.
Yet, I sip
.. praying the wet herbs that tickle my tongue shall unlock the gateway, or the path, or the door... to my soul.

So I sip...
And sip...
And sip...

Swallowing it’s brew...and my tears.

We are not heroes.
We are just people,
trying to survive.
You and I,
are not equals.
You work from home
while I...
I work to ensure
that I get to keep mine.
They call us essential,
because we provide
all the food and the things
that help keep you alive.
But I am resentful
that I don't get to decide,
What is more worthy,
my labor or life?
So don't call me a hero.
I am simply doing
what has to be done.
Don't call me a hero,
unless you plan to treat
and pay me like one.

When butterflies fall in love, do they feel humans in their stomach?