Planted with love,
watered by compassion,
fertilized with the light of our presence.

But it was all an illusion,
for the it was planted in betrayal,
watered with disappointments,
fertilized with lies
and maintained by fakes.

Our roses were red,
but now they are dead.
Weak and brittle petals,
crumbling beneath my feet.

Dear Sensitive Souls,
They call us emotional, fragile and weak as though these are the only words to describe us. Did they not see beyond the fact that we feel too much? that we are also empathetic and compassionate? Did they overlook all the beautiful qualities that came along with being sensitive.

So often we took our sensitivity as a curse for making us drown in an ocean of emotions. For being hurt by noticing the intricacies in people's body language, attitude and hesitations. For leaving us sore, drained at the end of the day. For making our problems look so insignificant in the eyes of others that we wouldn't even feel like opening up because if we did, word would just spill and eyes would just flood. For making us feel no one would understand the intensity of our emotions. For just letting us feel we were weak because every word, every vibe, every energy would just penetrate right through our heart leaving us to feel broken.

For making us feel so overwhelmed that it would be a struggle to get through the day. For making us face their statements and questions "Why are you so emotional?" "You're like a volcano ready to just explode" "Just toughen up" "You're such a mess". Sensitivity initially left me feeling so weak and broken for being affected so easily at the littlest of
things.

But over the years I met beautiful and kind souls who admired sensitivity as one of the rare and crucial part of humanity. Spending time with them changed my perspective about sensitivity and started to embrace it as a part of me.

The word "Sensitive" that once sounded like an insult became a compliment. The sensitivity I used to once spend my day hating became something so beautiful to me. It was when I started to embrace my sensitivity did I allow my emotions to be acknowledged, felt and be expressed.

A vile of acid on your tongue.

You words are like toxins I inhale,
suffocating every breath I take,
injecting self doubt in my veins.
Muscles trembling with every pace,
landfiling my heart with every beat.

Blaming and calling
crazy and emotional
in response to your says,
leaving me to question
my own sanity everyday.

You felt like a insidious catalyst;
a cancerous wound,
a rabid havoc,
a malicious destruction
withering me in the subtlest of ways.

But here we are once again,
rekindling old flames
even when we know it's poisonous for us to stay.

Don't know if we're too weak to leave
or are too mindlessly lusting
for the poison to infiltrate our bloodstream
and corrupt us  to our cellular level.

Either way, it's a grosteque addiction
for the soul, mind and heart.

The pain is so deep,
a gaping hole in my chest.
It hurts so much,
even physically,
but I have to be strong!
There will be better times,
I will be stronger after this!
But honestly,
I don't want to be strong anymore.
I want to just fall,
not stand on my own feet anymore.
I feel weak
even though I know I'm not .
I need affection.
I want to be helpless,
carried home by a loving soul.
I feel like a baby crying for its mother,
and I hate it!
Please just let this be over soon.
My raw emotions layed out for you.
This is me
not hidden behind words,
just me.

sleepless nights
after summer days
frequent sights
of the sun's early haze
and woe is me
for my strength is retired
every night is the same as the next will be
going to sleep shouldn't be hard when you're this tired


© L.F.

people see what they want to see
and maybe it’s a weakness you’ve grown out of
maybe it’s a past you’ve shed like second skin
people will hold on to things you’ve let go of
so you’ve got to love yourself
enough to make up for the ones who spite you
enough to tell yourself you’ve done a good job
when your head hits the pillow at night
people will say things intended to cut you and leave you with open wounds
you are not the mistakes you’ve made-
do not let them convince you otherwise

he touched me
and my knees felt weak
my mind went blank
and i didn't know how to speak