depression is such a pain
throwing curve ***** of
downfalls in the membrane
my written words has pulled me
from the pits  of the brains pollution
and this I know to be a true fact indeed
"Writing" is the best cleaning  solution

Spasming in life’s web,
Clustering under eight legged dreads,
Watching some rise from its smother,
But only for short pathetic seconds.

I watch many downfalls,
Idle in wait for my own,
Seizuring with a horrible burden,
Fortune telling with no end fortune.

All mere blinded mirrors laying in wait,
Distorting the spidery figure differently,
Mine reflects its harsh fangs and nature,
Others reflects admiration towards the creator.

The web a complex beauty,
But I can’t claim cruelty home,
The ripples of intertwined death,
Some by father...foe...or friend.

The inhumane humanity,
Puppets and the almighty player,
Cloud me from things called prayer,
For that hope must be alive and well.

I’m just waiting for my bones to decay,
Peace in nothingness or so you claim flames,
Free from the *******
And all that it stands for.

I’m an unholy ghost.

Image is everything, spin and white lies are addictive, destined to become ugly truths in a malevolent world, it's all about increasing your number, and binding to the best people available; you'll enter their clique in order to further enhance your image and validate your own false reality; once your host is unable to enhance your façade, they will be discarded; and you will move on to the best people available to you; in order to further enhance your image and validate your false reality.
This cycle is destined to go on and on and on throughout your entire life-cycle.
Friends and family will become worthless in time, becoming  just one of social climbings many downfalls.

Dear Someone,

As of this moment, I’m writing you a letter without the slightest idea of who you are. Have we met already? Do we bump each other’s way unknowingly? Or are you someone I already know and just waiting for our story to unfold absentmindedly? Tomorrow, a week, a couple of months, or even years I know I will meet you in an unpredictable way and you will finally stay.

Hope still blossoms within my heart even if it got broken a multiple times. I hope you’re having the time of your life so when we meet in the future, I’ll gladly listen to your unending stories about your adventures. I only want you to keep one promise; please be patient while waiting for me. I know fate gives us tough ordeals but keep in mind that we can both do it even if we’re not in each other’s side yet. For now, I want to apologize for not being there with you through your battles. I’m sorry I missed a lot of important days with you. Don’t get me wrong with this, I hope you experience heartbreaks before I step into your life. I believe that it will make you wiser and stronger so when the day comes that I have you in my arms, I will make you the happiest and show you genuine care for the reason that you deserve to feel what real love is supposed to be. It is a tough journey yet this is worth waiting for. You are worth waiting for.

When that day comes, I will love you wholeheartedly, always. I will push you to become a best version of yourself. I will be there for you through your success and downfalls. As what 1 Corinthians 13:7 said; Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance. I will not give up on your perfectly good soul. I will always believe in your capability. I promise to give you hope and light through the dark times, and we will endure every reckless path in the journey and make it worth the fight.

One day, your voice will be my favorite song. Your eyes will be my favorite painting. Your words will be my favorite poetry. Your presence will be my sweet tranquility. You are the home I keep coming back to. You are my comfort zone and at the same time, the adventure I am willing to take the risk. You are the daydream that I cannot escape. You are the sunshine that brings happiness in my frowning days. You are the laughter and smiles that I will remember in the back of my mind. You will be my greatest serendipity that destiny has given me. You are the evidence in this universe that God, in his timing, truly blesses a perfect prince to His brave princess.

Go on with your life and commit to your own happiness, I would do the same. Let us both keep going until the day we finally meet. I can’t wait to tell you how fortunate I am to be existing the same time as you. Fill yourself with self love and take care of your heart. When the right time comes, I’ll be the one who will nurture and take care of it.

So to the man I will fall in love in the future, everything will be worth the wait. Fate and gravity will eventually lead us to each other’s arms. I’ll see you very soon.

Tout L'amour,
Your sweetest Adrianne.

Old fashioned girls with indifference in their eyes.
a will to be different.
a desire to be unique, but an emptiness fit for the farthest reaches of space.
a pathetic excuse for an individual are you.
the exact copy to that of a ghost of nothing... vain fantasy, as inconstant as the sea.
but dependable are your downfalls, everyone see's your issues.
if you were smart, you'd take it off.
you'd shed your skin and be yourself.
deny the paint on your face and the fact that we can all see it, we know you think you're above it.
you may think what you say doesn't reach my ears, but your ridiculous calls and impunitive voice are what I hear above all else.
it'll escape your mind, and I'm the one who will remind you of what it once was.
I'll get in your head, you're thinner than you think, your being is nothing, and your demise I will be.
your downfall is on a platter dear, take heed and be smart or behind your back is where you'll find the MOST disappointment of your life.
wish all you want, wishes are nothing.
especially to the undeserving.

This is who I am and it will always be ILLOGICAL, IRRATIONAL and above all, STUPID.

I miss you.

You don't understand me. Its not feasible. Everything won't work. You won't work. I won't work. We won't work. You can't reason your way out of this. Not enough time. Not enough time for me. Not enough time for us. It would've ended anyways he tells me. I tell myself this over and over. Convince yourself, I AM INDEPENDENT. I will vitalize and intoxicate myself by myself. Thats what people do everyday. The issue being, I am not a genuine person. I persuade and assure myself I can handle this role and it satisfies my craving for normalcy. I'm not a gifted actress. I lose more and more social contacts due to this complication. I must learn from the independent ones so I can stop breaking apart these silly boys limb by limb.

You must stop making them care for you. You are not a whole person and therefore cannot be an authentic concern of others. You are imaginary. You are empty. Two opposite minds, insanity and sanity, fighting over the same body is an immense misadventure. Insanity wants to ******* boys, intently watching the peculiar escape routes they design. She sneers as they try and try, withered by a constant sense of defeat, each of them exhibiting exciting, unique and new qualities. She forces the body's muscles into a terrifying object. Then she denies his superiority complex of its primary function as he realizes that this damsel is in a permanent brand of distress. Sanity, however, is fleeting. Sometimes, she truly gives a **** about others. She is the pure example of meek, anemic and decrepit aftermath. She is selfless for selfish reasons. She wants them to adore her. She will exceed expectations, impresses and astonishes them. The product of this relished humanistic quality, acceptance, nourishes her. She savors boys who tell her she is strong and capable. Lies lies lies lies lies is all they speak. Its been too many years. She's forsaken by insanity.

Never enough time for this. Nobody has enough time. Who will give me the time? These days the clock shows seamless progressions to worse and worse. Sleepless nights remind me of night after night after night of our restless, unsetting and ineffective dialogues. Lets just go in circles for a little longer. Why not a little longer? Where do I find someone willing to linger with insanity? Just give me more time. I need a few more moments with real people to feel okay. Let me practice my part with you. Coach me. Tell me what to do next. I'm craving a sense of reality. I trusted you with it. Give it back. Give it to me. Let me have it. Feed it to me. Now.

I kid myself. If you get to know me a bit further I might let you peer at my Dali-esque picture of the present. Wonderland has me descending head first down the rabbit hole. Alice found herself stationary, bruised and filthy with temporary madness years ago. I've kept plunging for decades after and suddenly I'm gaining speed. Momentum, its all about physics. They throw ropes, then yarn, then thread to me. Once again the thread brushed my skin and I found possibility. The sensation of active nerve endings engaged my curiosity. I search for the sort of matter that could interrupt this regression. One faint wonder to what could have been is met by pathetic and pointless conclusions.

You are so associated. Everything and everyone is marked by inclinations. What affects you is the fact that you are now aware of it. You recognize that I see something different in you. I see something unusual. I see a habit. Nouns are consistently becoming verbs. You are not beneficial to this at all. I allowed you to be my unhealthy. I linked you to infection. Is that why I need you so badly? Is that why I want you back? You gave me composure from your expectations.You raised questions and I gave you the appropriate answers conjured from my ideals. I store a list of rules that are rarely followed. I let you in on every ***** secret so I had to abide by constructs of sickness. I had no other choice.

Will I ever be able to do this? If this is me and I am me forever who will swallow it? Who will take responsibility for my downfalls? Faults that are too confusing for explanation are menacingly sweet if you hold inquisitiveness, in place of a heart, on your sleeve. I can't understand. You can't understand. There is no more on and off switch somewhere in a dark basement. I'm not twelve anymore. I can't blame mommy and daddy. Its all my fault. I got myself here. It's my transgression. Don't you dare blame them. Recognize my liability. I ****** up this time but I found an oddity; I found perfection in this imperfection. It's something of a conundrum.

Computer science is fruitless thinking. I AM NOT A MACHINE. I am not a computer, not a mechanism, not a problem. I am not a riddle to solve. I am contradiction in every sense of the term. Its broken, shattered and pieces have gone missing. They were outdated and oppressive. They were thrown out, burned, buried, and forgotten. Once treasured, they became cumbersome and then dropped along the way. With them, logic vanished beneath my feet. Its gone now. I'm gone now.

Weightlessness necessitates a higher being than the imperfect human. It requires me to remain underwater, letting go of the compulsion to meet the surface for air. These ancient seas compel me and draw me further down with their loveliness and passion. I am mesmerized by the mania involved. You won't spot me in the engrossing waters. The black surface holds many afflictions.

RUN. FAST.

I can remember growing up in my car
That year of not so sweet sixteen
As my line of sight aligned with my knuckles and
Further to the cyclops viewfinder windshield
That showed me the world through its
Cracks of heat expansion and cold contraction

I remember getting ice cream with a girl once and
Realizing that high school never was one of Baskin Robbins 32 flavors
Maybe that's why I never bought into it or liked the taste
Feeling it to be a waste of time

I remember driving by the school
Bright and early in morning
Deciding today was not my day and I'm not going
Because I was always too cool
Or more accurately too foolish to see the point of it all

I remember drug filled days passing by in a daze slowly but surely
But in my mind they drift by like a cigarette drag in my memory
Subsequently with each inhale and exhale

I remember the day I chose to walk the halls like a ghost and
Make as little impact as I possible
As far as I'm concerned I was fairly successful

I remember not knowing what it meant to be a sophomore
Only that as the pain progressed I was beginning to feel more and more soft

It's hard being the ****** in the vehicle
It's a vicious vessel to handle

Four grades in a classroom
Three years in my backseat
Two days in jail
One life to live

When I was sixteen
I wish this wasn't the future
Now it's my past

it's sad to think
that at one point
i thought i was
madly in love with you.

and it's so strange because
i was so convinced that
everything would be alright
despite the downfalls we had
and how i would stay up at night
wishing i was there with you.
and sadly when i finally got
to know how your lips taste
they were bittersweet
because there was doubt
in the way that you kissed me
and no matter how convinced
you were that those kisses were true
we both knew
that deep down inside
you weren't sure how to feel about it.

our path was a loose gravel bridge
that fell apart with every step that we took
and no matter how hard we tried
to fix it along the way
things seemed to get worse.
but we kept at it
because one just doesn't give up
on something that could be so perfect.

i thought you were perfect
but when your colors truly showed
it wasn't the hue i thought
i knew.
no,
our colors didn't go together
the way we once though they did.

and it's a shame i invested so much time
into someone who in the end
couldn't live up to their promises.
dead ends
with dead feelings
and an aching head
wasn't what i bargained for.

so now when i stay up at night,
i don't wish about holding your hand
or kissing you.
i stay up because
im upset that i wasted so much time on you.

Today in class, I saw you writing a spreadsheet
Numbering girls looks from 1 to 10
You gave me a 7, told me that was alright
But I don't want you to define my beauty with a number
To the government, I'm just a digit
To charities, I'm a statistic
To businesses, I'm only the amount I own
I want to go back to the days when you wrote poems about me
You caressed my flaws and kissed my imperfections
The day you told me I was gorgeous, I looked myself in the mirror
"I'm actually pretty" "I'm like all those other girls" I told myself
But what's changed since then?
When you fell out of love with me, did my importance sink too?
With a clear view, do my downfalls and my embarassing body diguist you?
You were too insensitive to show the slightest bit of affection
So you labelled me, gave me an average and put me in a category
To you, I just want to be human
To be beautiful
To be loved

Who could ever love an Eliza?
Awkwardly a little too tall,
Possessing a dorky laugh,
Silly mannerisms,
And,
Above all,
A dream of love.
An Eliza writes poetry,
Crying to God for answers to life's questions,
Asking for God to provide some form of companionship.
An Eliza,
Is impatient,
Her largest downfalls,
Impatience,
Caring too much.
An Eliza is an Eliza,
But,
Is that a good thing?

As school comes to an end, I decide to
spend the summertime with my instrument.
I read music theory for two hours,
but my hands yearn for the touch of six strings.
Fingers position themselves to stroke bliss.
But my phone’s troubled with recurring rings.

****, it was mom telling me I have class!
I raced for my backpack, and I told her:
I will not slack. Papers grew so lonely
without their folder to cuddle them close.
I couldn’t care to organize them cause
usually, I’d lay in my seat repose.

Ionic bonds? What do they even mean?
And what the heck is “double replacement”?
Okay, I should start paying attention.
I grasp the pen. I notice the tension.
As soon as I write, my hands start to shake.
I start over. Now hands begin to ache.

What in the world is happening to me?
Two words: I scream. Head jerks, and my legs shake.
It has to be a dream. It has to be!
Don’t want to move, but I have to take notes.
Why are random words bursting out my throat?  
I’ma be real. I need my mommy!

Class is over. I exclaim to mother:
my fingers refuse to stop tremoring.
And I’m getting these tics. What set it off?
First thing I do is reach for my guitar.
I can’t hold it. I can’t ******* grab it.
Eyes of terror stay written on my face.

The next day I was in a wheelchair.
I cannot look straight- straight up to the sky
or look in front and into people’s eyes.
My right-hand curves to the left. A tendon
sinks into my flesh, and my left fingers
cramp up from being intertwined like vines.

They are stiff. Hideous. These are not mine.
But it does get much better with some time.
I can walk again, talk again, and write.
But all good things come with downfalls, don’t they?
My brain disease will come at me with might.
And I refuse to give up on this fight.

There will be a time when I reach stage five.
And I know it won’t be a pretty sight.
I’m ready for what will happen to me.
Dearest guitar, please know you’re my heaven.
Why bother to fret? Cause’ when the time comes
I’ll see you again in a few seconds.

Boys, Boys, Boys,
Likable, lovable,or lonely,
Some are completely despicable,
You got those hard ***** who are too strong for love, or who will just lead ya on, making you think thoughts you shouldn't about them and
Making you want them more then you should,
Or you got those babies, the ones who refuse to actually grow some *****,
The ones who ask you to forgive them of their weaknesses,
Their shortcomings and their downfalls,
Like seriously?
I'm a girl, not a leaning post who you can depend upon,
Ok, maybe if I knew you more,
But still like, really?
The ones who refuse to make a move, like even afraid to touch you,
What? Do I have cooties or something,
Hold my hand, or hold me,
Come on!
Then you got those ones who don't even know how to communicate,
Or say something worth hearing,  
Please I've heard it all,
How cute and adorable I am,
The Goddess, a queen, labeling me to be one who I'm not,
I'm a human being, one of you!
Last time I checked I was a mortal, not some model of perfection,
But to be put on such a pedestal is simply too much.
So come on guys, get a grip and learn how to stand up for yourselves,
Don't pretend I'm something more then I'm not,
It aint going to work,
I want you as a friend, then a lover, but the crushes are constantly crushing my hopes and dreams of finding that one prince charming

A Strong Woman,
Repairs a broken home.
Blessed with the kingdom keys
Opens a door to follow the path of your dreams.

A Strong Woman,
Is molded by her struggles
Salvation keeps you walking, towards the King's light

A Strong Woman,
Embraces her inner beauty
Love thy self & the insecurities;


A Strong Woman,
Gives essence to the world around her,
There she shows respect & power.


A Strong Woman,
Finds courage,
Motivated by her downfalls
Picking up her crown.

A Strong Woman,
Is passionate,
Steadily driven by what she loves
Letting nothing stop her.


A Strong Woman,
Births a new soul;
Her sweet lullaby heals
The unwanted cries..


A Strong Woman,
Touches a meaningful purpose to life
Walking towards, the Kingdom's light.

©MH

The sedum has begun to blush.
Something in change of seasons  
That intensifies my craving
for strong male energy.
A Gravitational pull
Towards Infamous downfalls.
Until the day that all the Jessica stories have been told
I will continue living this way
Dancing in the rain
Stomping over the invisible lines
Drawn to keep me contained

Don't quite understand why people keep crying,
Cribbing about things, cursing their fate all the time.
As if tortured by life, sulking and sighing,
Not realizing that everything would eventually be fine!

Being dejected by the minor downfalls in life,
Depressed as the moments unfold unexpected.
Forgetting that they are the gist of being alive,
Without which the upheavals wouldn't be augmented!

Lamenting on their past, not focusing on the present,
Too busy regretting, mourning and grieving,
Observing and noticing only the unpleasant,
Failing to grasp the true essence of living!

So just break all barriers and breathe free,
Remember, there was a reason you were born!
No matter how difficult, just let it be,
Coz the only truth is- life goes on!

come to me,
my beloveds
with long nails
and squinting eyes,
spare neither
claw or hook,
delve and devolve,
critique and solve
the words of this prophet
scribbled on plastic
bus seats

give me
my due,
my comeuppance,
my downfalls

will me
to be better
or worse
if that be betterment

so eagerly
will embrace,
grasp, insert
your benailing fingers,
soften, grasp,
repoint thy claws
taking thy earnest joy
at pain inflicted
as my own
as long as you dare
just say something!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A bus poem
in honor of my invitation  
my digital birthing

April 8th, 2015

We loved
With a love
That I didn't know existed.

This is not a love poem;
This is a ballad
Of all the sweet love songs
that finally made sense,

This is a dictionary
Defining the new outlook on life you gave me,

This is the final scene
Of something so perfect,
It had to be nothing much more than fiction.

God stitched together
All of my cuts and wounds
With thread made of your touch,
Your scent, your voice,
Your laugh, your hair flip,
Your 'I love yous', your leftover strands of hair
Still clinging to all of my clothes,
As if this distance between us
Was never there in the first place.

We were like Romeo and Juliet,
Discarding what everyone had to say.

I loved you like I was an abused dog
Straggling along, pouncing on any piece of meat
That came my way
Until you held me tight close to you,
Letting me know that
It'd all be okay.

Your love rivaled that
Of the Sun and the Moon,
You had shed light on my world
When I couldn't see
Past my insecurities and downfalls,
And brought shooting star showers down upon me
When it seems like the bad days could not get any longer.

We trekked over hills and valleys
And sure, sometimes, we slipped -
but we always made sure
That we got back up and kept going.

Our love was a perfect melody,
And sometimes, we struck a sour note,
But your voice was always a beautiful symphony
That slowed everything back down to its right pace.

I loved you
like diamonds yearning
For the perfect ray of light
To grace its surface
So that it may project a perfect spectrum
Upon your naked left ring finger
That i had daydreams every day
Of staking as my territory.

We were a binary solar system
In supposed equilibrium
Until your gravitational pull
Ripped away all my outer layers
And you left me vulnerable,
so that you could use all my flaws
To become a black hole
and tear my whole being to shreds.

I loved you
Like the breeze loves flowing through
Your hair, making a cascading waterfall
that left me drowning in your beauty.
But now -
You're not mine anymore.
*And I'm not okay with that.

A man wearing a tailored suit appears at a rivals lodging holding a box in his right fist and his hat in the other. He knocks on the door. A man in rags answers, he is desperate to experience the same kind of riches that the well dressed man has accomplished. It seems that they have been rivals since birth.  Both men came from the same place and are indistinguishable in almost every way. The only difference was appearance. One appeared  greater, and the other appeared lesser. The well dressed man's rival has been hounding, pleading, scheming for years to get whatever it is that made his counterpart successful. The man in rags dropped to his knees in the doorway of his broken down cube that he calls home. "What's your secret? Is it in that box?" This box was in the successful man's life for years. This exact interaction has happened countless times. The difference with this particular moment is that the man in rags has lost hope. Lost luster, lost vigor and drive. His downfalls have put extreme weight on his shoulders and has literally brought him to his knees right in front of his rival.
Once he had demanded,  "You will tell me your secret! At every chance you get you look in that box. At every heartbreak or wrong turn you peek inside and get aspiration, epiphanies. I want that. I need that. You tell me what's inside!" But it never worked. The well dressed man would say nothing, do nothing, and would act as if the lesser man was invisible. The man in rags could never convince the well dressed man to share his secret. Force wouldn't work either because the man in rags was a pacifist.  Also displayed weakness, meagerness, he was insufficient and desperate.  The well dressed man was the exact opposite,  strong decisive, calm and confident.  The lesser man wanted what was on the other side of the fence, he wanted to feel the soft bluegrass beneath his feet, as opposed to the dirt covered baroness yard that he had became so spiteful of.  "The key to success is in the box." The man in rags thought.
Now the man in rags is almost 6 feet into the ground, metaforiacally, he is at rock bottom. The well dressed man for saw this and that was why he was standing in front of a failing vessel holding his prized humble possession.
The box was black, with gold trim painted on the sides. It also had a lock embedded in the side made of platinum.  It was a identical to what the well dressed man embodied. The man in rags tried many times to break inside but to no avail,  the box stood resilient. Couldn't even make a dent or scratch.  
Now he had given up. Leaning against the frame of his door, welts growing bigger and more painful on his knees with every passing moment. Tears flowing from his eyes, so much he could hydrate a village of camels. The well dressed man, with no reservations, no emotion says nothing and hands the lesser male a purple key with a gold and platinum crown embroidered on the hilt. The man  in rags looks up with sorrow and anticipation.  He gently grasps the key and slowly glides it into the platinum lock. 'Click' it's opening. Every second that passes by feels like an hour to the man who's knees are numb with pain. Finally he looks inside and comes to see... That the box is empty. "What is this!? A trick?! A lie!? Why do you toy with me so, why?" The lesser man's shoulders slumped down to his waist. He falls dead fully silent.
The well dressed man puts the box aside while he kneels down on one knee, still exuberant with confidence and strength and looks the man in rags man in the eyes. The energy was so intense the lesser man was frozen and felt every emotion imaginable at once.  ".....There was never anything inside of this parcel..." The greater man  then put his hat on, and walked away.

The idolization of an individual
Is a form of dehumanization
It places an insurmountable pressure
To live up to an expectation
And disregards the downfalls and limitations
That make us all human
So anything but perfection is not permitted
The static perception of an individual
In itself
Is a form of dehumanization
As time moves along and changes
So do humans
We evolve and grow
But to place the identity
Of who someone was
Ten years ago
One year ago
Six months ago
Onto the current version of who you see
Is a form of dehumanization
To not acknowledge the change
And to stay static in your perception
Is a disservice
Not only to the other
But to yourself as well
Because your perception of others
Is a mirror for one’s inner judgement
Of the self

I had forgotten all the bonus feelings that came with true hope
Giddy like a teenage girl going on her first date
Happy like a kid catching the ice cream truck
Excited like a toddler at Disneyland for the first time

I had tried to forget all the downfalls that came with true hope
Fear like a child trying to sleep in the dark
Anticipation like a pageant contestant waiting to hear the
judge's decision
Anxiety like a politician on election night

I've had hope where the results far exceeded my
wildest imagination so that the words to describe it
didn't exist
Hope that was smashed like a bored little boy jumping
on an empty can
Hope that shriveled up and blew away like a
tumbleweed in the desert

And hope came and went again

I used to believe that happiness was in
gaining a love, gaining security
gaining hope from within

but the longer I live
the more I lose touch
with what I used to believe
and what I once thought
was the right things in life
the best of them all
but everyone suffers
temporary or permanent
life changing downfalls

and we all grieve
at some point in life
either the loss of ourselves
or the loss of loved ones
we all feel and will feel
endless bouts of pain
sharp pains that can feel
like strangulation
or self-inflicted
times of illusion

misguided thoughts
and moments of weakness
psychotic rages
and times of
confusion

I have felt so much in a short space of time
it is hard to believe that I am somewhat 'fine'
the amount of trauma sustained
from the painful migraines
the way it felt like someone
squeezing and pressuring my head
the way it felt like my brain
was going to explode
at some known time and place
the way it felt like system malfunction
was taking it's course of faith
how it took so much away from my life

people say strong people never feel pain
and that they have no reason
to feel anything but joy
well those people are wrong
because I was once strong

and look what the **** happened
depression took over my soul
and stripped me of my voice
it broke me to the point
of almost shooting myself
in the head with a gun
that's what my dreams
always consisted of
suicide and a loss of pride
a loss of consciousness
felt like someone was
controlling my heart
poking holes
and making me bleed
until I was seeing stars
even if I was behind doors
my mind made me delusional
made me drift away from reality
I'm still not myself at all
not functioning properly

I don't sleep anymore
not even drugs are a cure
not even *** stimulates
my naked body is a disgrace
when I look in the mirror
I can imagine it shatter

my whole sense of view
about everything of me
is honestly the worst
there is no in-between
sometimes I wonder
if life will ever get
as good as it once was

that chapter of my life
is still yet un-explored
but I picture it
in my head
all the time

My dear, you deserve the kind of love that is not perfect but will wrap its arms around you, runs his fingers through your hair, and kisses your forehead most tenderly. A love that stays even after you told him to leave, always ready to accept you with open arms and an open heart, the kind that stays true to his roots and words. A love that makes mistakes, has downfalls and shortcomings, but will make it up for you because he does not want to lose you. A love that argues, has flaws and differences…a love that is not perfect but it is exactly what you need.