she is a charcoal sketch.
she is dark,
jagged at the edges, rough.
she is only a first draft--
soon the pencil marks will be erased
and the best is yet to come.
not only is she a watercolor painting--
pastels bleeding together until
you can't find where
each emotion stops and starts--
but also the dark Sharpie lines
etched in arcs on said painting,
a beautiful composition of
daydream and nightmare.
she is cracked clay.
she crumbles easily, powder
breaking off from her sculpture
in such a way that
no amount of glue will ever reattach.
she may be broken and
cracked in all the wrong places but
sometimes imperfections add beauty
to an otherwise ordinary masterpiece.

I loved Him
Like the moon loved the stars
I studied him
Like the stargazers
A masterpiece

Please be mine
Never to be mine

Two planets
With different routes
Desperately wanting.

I destroyed myself
For you.
So that my meteors
Would go closer
Than I ever could,
I’m yours for good

Before,
I had
only
known
flaws
alone,
unaware
of the
clean,
aerial
grace
hidden
from
my
eyes,
I wore
these
blindfolds
within
the veiled
petals,
a voice
whispered,
“open your
heart”,
the words
came to me
In a dream,
I opened the
pages, and
began to
write every
little note
of my
memories
when
people
spoke of
softness
to me,
as the
rising
sun
of the
ocean,
the flower
of unseen
beauty
slowly
began
to open,
a man
emerges
from the
desert,
seeking
the ocean
of love,
I, the woman
appear to him
In a vision,
"you seek
the rain
and the
rain seeks
you",
the desert
parted
the depths
of the mist
whispering,
“why do
you wait,
and see
yourself
through
a eyehole,
when you
are the
thousands
of falling
stars
beyond?"
the petals
fall from
the heavens,
my hands
let the
pages close,
I am the artist,
and my heart
is a canvas
where I
paint the
masterpiece
of love

The echo of your soft sound
muted,
                     there are cars around

Textured surface, I can feel it now
the valleys rise while the soil forms mounds


and here you are now.

Colder than ever but only from warmth

Kiln of my love
for I have found.


My masterpiece

Stroke after stroke.
Intentional.
Purposeful.
We create art.
We are art.
Made by a creator.
A beautiful creation.
A wonderful masterpiece.
A work of art.

The sunset reflecting onto the clouds
Fading into an empty darkness
Only to be relit when the moon rises

Showing me the nature of life
A colorful masterpiece;
Only for a moment is it dark
Until the sun
Finds another way to shine its light in the sky