floriculturist Oct 2017
i drink philosophy like water,
in hopes of it being the remedy i need.

i’m strong until i’m not;
they say i’ve got sad eyes –
just as i came into this world.

i want to be looked at like i’m art –
i think the best feeling is knowing,
even your most broken pieces,
have meaning and worth.

i don’t really know me,
but i promise i will still try to learn;
and perhaps i will forever be curious,
of the things that are unknown.

you’re the greatest joy and the greatest grief,
i’ve ever tasted –
i’m still trying to figure out how that could be.

sometimes i wonder what i look like to the universe –
or to you, ‘cause all i want is to be seen,
for my old soul.

i’m still sad;
that’s why i write words you don’t understand.

it was almost desperate,
how bad i wanted to hear from you tonight –
but one message was all it took,
for me to remember the good,
and how we used to be:

you called me beautiful again,
like you did in the beginning;
my heart is light,
my mind is clear,
and i am at peace.

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