dear five year old me,
cherish the beauty you can see.
because no one tells you,
how the skies eventually turn grey.

cling to the wonder you feel,
and those moments where everything is real.
because one day you’ll look back,
and wish that you could’ve stayed..

young, innocent, naive,
always so open to believe,
that happiness is just the smile on your face.
hopeful, kind, untouched,
don’t forget you’ll always be enough,
baby girl, this world we live in is a tough place.

dear thirteen year old me,
don’t ignore your inner beauty.
because no one tells you,
how hard it is to find once it’s thrown away.

don’t listen to the mean girls’ words,
no matter how deeply they cut or hurt.
because in the end what counts,
is your ability to just walk away.

scared, lost, afraid,
your finger slowly skims the blade,
that slides down your thigh to not leave a trace.
tired, ashamed, confused,
you ask what more you have to lose,
baby girl, the world wouldn’t be the same without your grace.

dear girl listening to this song,
i want you to know i believe you’re strong.
because i don’t think you’re ever told enough,
to believe it’s actually true.

I try to explain the world--
the deeper meanings to my mumblings
all of it a frustrating mess,
an artist canvas splashed with too many colors--
that it becomes impossible to depict which is what.
Is that blue or is that aqua, I don't even know anymore.

When it comes to understanding my thoughts,
it becomes a psychotic break from reality--
where I imagine my fingernails scraping
chunks of flesh from my neck.
I plead for my hands to place themselves around my throat,
"Please suffocate yourself please just let me out"

Begging for someone to understand the mess,
that the khaki colored object actually means something.
Each splotch a representation of myself
every detail aligned to explain a greater idea.

As arguments end, they scribble deep within
a sketch book of sickening black ink;
Marks its place in the drippings of my thoughts,
making those colors lost in translation
so not even the painter knows how they feel.

I feel myself slipping,
I fear that my grip
Has come loose, as I
Look at my life, and
I see it confined,
By a noose,

That prevents me, from,
Being the one that I am, as
I'm swept 'round by forces,
I can't see, and don't understand,

Where is love?
Where is truth, or
That wonder
We find
In our youth?
Can you tell me.
Where days go,
What life is, and
What is your proof?
Do we die, with
That question,
That burns
On our lips,
Is it clear,
Who we are,
Where we're going, and
What it is, that
We hold dear?

Can I live, for one day,
That these notions of,
Status will not interfere?
Or when men, do not
Drown all their sorrows,
In whiskey and beer?

Won't you,
Feed me
Your dreams, and
We'll bathe
In the essence
Of love, as
We soar peaks majestic, and
Ride on the wings of
White doves
Through space, and
Through time,
Without pennies,
or dimes
We'll sing songs, and
Write rhymes of
The wealth,
That we
Find in
The health of
Our minds.

You know how you get that indescribable feeling when you read a really good book?

It is like you've jumped from your world to the world that the characters live in.

Except now there's one small difference.

This time the book is reality.

And you are the main character.

My unmade bed reminds me of my unmade head before you left and now all I see are stars and reasons why I can instead of why I can't and what love truly means and why when I fell asleep last night I was happy to wake up and I noticed the beauty in my breathing and how I want to laugh forever. I stretched and felt the cold tile on my toes and it tickled and I wanted to dance to music I hadn't heard before strings and drums and guitars and maybe I could learn the guitar and I could play music for someone else that didn't end in tears from locked up fears instead that just ended in a long melody that never truly ended and just played in the background reminding you to smile. I saw colours I hadn't seen before blues reds bright whites luminescent lights shining so bright I had to blink one two three times to not see spots but I had my eyes open and for the first time I wasn't tired and I wanted to keep them open for as long as I could soaking in everything I couldn't see until now. The world looked so clear outside, I felt for the first time like I was real and someone somewhere could reach out and touch me. If this is life I get it now I get why writers write why birds fly and why bunnies hop and dogs bark and why the sun rises and the moon talks and why clouds look like the most comfortable space in the entire universe. I get why you had to break my heart. I was already broken my whole life before you, and only now I feel complete, after being shattered.