As He Did
If I could see myself the way he did, I'd be in love. I would love that conglomerate of wisdom and natural grace that her divine femininity has fought to become.
to thine own self be true
It's been a long time on your way here, even after those nights when you didn't want to be. But here you are; hidden scars beneath the skin and bones of your body. You've taken care to kiss and bandage them with every leap-of-faith-turned-lesson which tastes sour on your tongue. I know you're tired, and those breakouts look like they'll be nasty in the morning, but darling girl, breathe out your pain, inhale this God-given air and turn it into flowers blooming in vines around your rib cage. This heart of yours is not meant for flimsy hands, or insincere promises. Your heart is a lioness standing in pride; your heart is a battle drum, a symphony of colors, painting your dreams before they appear to you as an angel in your slumber. Awaken, and know that your heart is a teacher, and you, her student. She may create your feelings, but you wear the pants in this partnership. She may conjure your dreams with the help of your brain, but sweet girl, you pave the streets, build the monuments, write the stories, sing the songs, create the moments, of your reality.
Pains of a Daughter
It's a sad day when you have to admit to yourself that a home, is not a home anymore. When you can't remember when it ever felt like one. This revelation can take you away from the prison you're in, and make you wonder how you ever ended up inside of it in the first place. I never really knew why he liked to stay with her, it was always something of a mystery in my mind. I think it was a mystery for him, too. But the fact that he had already had one once over, this time around being his second chance - and if, in his words, they divorced then - he'd never find anyone else again. That he would live the rest of his life for him. This was his one chance in his mind. I wish he could get out of it.
No matter the tool, I cannot break the wall. Somehow, nothing sounds good enough to leave my capsule of ideas. A nagging buzz, a white noise, has surrounded all creativity.