I am imperfection.
I am moments of weakness,
grasping at air to help keep me steady.
I am fire slowly contained.
But I’m still a light -
finding my way home through the smoke.
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We are drawn to light-
though, it does not have to be
the radiating beams of another;
Sometimes, our own light is the sun others orbit.
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how do we speak when all we see is
despair,,
complete loss of the human heart,
of human life?
We stay silent because we no longer see others;
because we feel we must face the world alone.
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I always feel I am
in search of something greater;
That the magic Life brings
is never meant to stay.
I have only recently come to realize
that it is not the magic that is fleeting -
It is my belief
that I am.
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why do I feel the need
to collect the bits and pieces of me
that fall
away.
when will I understand
the space makes room
for change?
It’s okay.
Handwritten for Her
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It is so simple to ask:
“how do you feel today?”.
Its a simple reminder -
to tell them “stay”;
to remind them
you need them
when they believe
No one does.
Handwritten for Her
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She is cosmic;
a being
of inconceivable depth,
a sensation
made up of stars.
Handwritten for Her
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The wrong decision you made shouldn’t be a regret. It’s simply meant to be a lesson.
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She is cosmic;
a being of inconceivable depth,
a sensation made up of stars.
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She writes for
who she was,
who she is,
and
who she hopes to be.
Handwritten for Her
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I will be.
Walk around
in this madness;
proudly carry the baggage
that's weighed me down.
I will continue to be.
Handwritten for Her
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She has lost herself
many times.
And searching
for each piece
is what leads her,
one step closer,
to the greatest version.
Handwritten for Her
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I didn’t know who I was before you.
I am still learning who I am
after you,
after all this time,
still.
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I made love to a waning moon.
After each soft kiss, soft touch -
She slowly illuminated
the surface of her skin.
She would let me land.
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My words may fade from these pages.
But these illegible lines of ink
are where you will remain -
your psychedelic silhouette.
Handwritten for Her
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there is this way
that every sort of light
hits her face.
Its more than an illumination.
Its a gleaming trance.
She tells a story while simply standing still,
allowing the beam to grace her face.
Its transcendence.
She truly is unlike anything,
Unlike absolutely anyone
I have ever seen.
Handwritten for Her
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