Nutured.

 I just need to be...

Nutured. 

Dont care if I stay

 Your words cut like blades,

And I'm left to catch the blood...

Sew myself up.

Accept your apologies like the medication you think it is.

Each cut has caused a scar,

Though I don't speak of them much... 

They're buried under my clothes, 

Near my heart...

One by one, I examine them.

My self esteem dips and dives...

I weave and woe.

At one point I had laid my entire life, my entire heart, all of my love on the line...

And I tried, and I sacrificed...

And have yet to receieve the same level of sacrifice. 

So what do I do, bend and break?

Or bow away?

I feel like you don't care if I stay.

April 29th

When the universe shakes you gently to wake, you listen. You don't fight it... because she's whispering that there is a gentle adventure ahead. The sunrise is beckoning your soul, and why wouldn't you dance with her if you could? Why wouldn't you enjoy the heat of a hottub on a cool Spring morning, with a hot cup of coffee?

Rose Colored Glasses

 Rose colored glasses 🌹 

.

Life is beautiful - 

I used to get angry at the clouds and the rain. Cursing them as they'd roll through. Now, I beg them to be wild, so that I can dance in their danger and chaos. 

I used to hold back my smile, as a way to control how others perceived me (as if my eyes didn't give it all away). Now, I let my emotions run free- proudly showing off my dimple, the one I used to hate so much.

There have been times that I've fallen out of touch with my soul, and walked through life blind to the beauties around me.

Now, my visions are clear, reality is mine to perceive and mold.

There's something bold, about these rose colored glasses. My perception is my own.

Catch Me

 Some days...

Some nights...

I want to leave this realm,

Because I know deep down- your embrace will be waiting for me on the other side.

That warm, comforting, motherly embrace.

I'm not quite sure you understand how much I miss you. 

Will you catch me if I jump?

I Chase

 I find myself chasing the art of the Sad Girl,

You know,

The creative, ominous, ambiguous vibe that She puts forth.

That mystery that continues to run wild in the moonlight. 

My how I've mastered her at such a young age, and continue to chase her through my lows. 

She's such a beautiful mess- one that I understand so deeply...

One whose words cut like razorblades across a mirror- etching in the word "Hopeless"

What a pretty little mess.

But she's not as cute and airy in your thirties... and probably even less cute in your forties... but damn, she always seems to look good. 

Am I seeing her right? 

Whiskey lingers on her breath,

Her chest gets red,

Xanax slows her breathing,

Mascara smudges under her eyes...

She pinches her thighs- imagining she was just a bit thinner.

And her eyes...

Those eyes...

Crave light. 

Off Switch

 Where is the off switch?

Have I lost it under my clothes?

Or is it tucked beneath my wavy hair? 

Only Goddess truly knows.

Where is the off switch?

The one that allows me to exhale,

The one that allows my smile to soften-

And allows my heart to be frail.

Where is the damn off switch?

I'm tired, and just need some rest.

My heart still aches, 

The sparkle in my eyes feels forced at times,

And I can barely catch my breath.

Where is the fucking off switch?

I'd peel back my skin, to feel calm...

To turn off all my thoughts for once, 

And silence my gifted charm.

I check behind my rib cage,

And grip up my beating heart...

Where is this fucking off switch?

I guess, I'll just stay On.