i was compelled to miss you

you made me want to miss you today.

the words you said demanded me to

forgive you and wrap myself around your finger

once again

but,

i did not beckon to your call.

i did not even glance your way.

your words are thin air and

they do not fill me up anymore

and they never will.

i was compelled to miss you today

but i gripped my heart close to my chest

and walked away

head held high

grace swarming my every step.

you tried to turn me into a pillar of salt

but i’ve learned where my true treasures are

and they are not

in your arms.

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the foolish girl has grown wings

i know i am foolish.

only a foolish girl allows her thoughts to caress

memories that are forbidden.

only she longs for the boy that hurt her when it’s

2 a.m and she needs saving.

she is foolish, yes,

but she is also strong.

though she allows herself to miss him when she feels most vulnerable,

she reminds herself that she is a queen in armor.

she tells her spirit to rise when it has been free-falling from the memory

of his lips and grip.

 

these nights in the pit are trying

but

she knows those nights don’t last long,

that the torrent of thoughts are only the waves of lonely

that sneak up on her like a well-acquainted ghost.

she thought he taught her how to get rid of them,

but she’s realized that it is only her that can cast those demons away

and

that

is why this foolish girl has grown wings.

welcome…

once i realized i couldn’t be

you or you

or you or you,

i was left with me,

a type of lonely i wasn’t acquainted with,

a type of alone i had to learn to love.

i despised it at first,

my jealous eyes scavaged the sea

for something i could replicate

in order to feel whole.

but each time i sent the line out,

i reeled it back to find my hands empty.

void.

that is what i felt,

when i had to be by myself.

but soon,

almost painfully,

i accepted my own solitude,

and soon,

not so painfully,

i embraced who i found.

my ever growing garden

i don’t know who you thought i was

but sadly you are mistaken.

take your dirt from my palms

and create weeds in your own garden.

i am planted firmly in my dwelling

even if some days i weep and let the wind tear the leafs from my stems.

sure enough, my bark is striped with lessons from childhood

and red stained adolescents.

the sky licks and grooms my budding flowers

and sends them winds of relief from the overbearing heat at noon

and

you…

you are not allowed into this sacred place.

your thorns and bent knees that only praise glory and never pain

could never understand the spines of my past that have twisted and turned

to form the heart shaped petals that have wilted

and grown,

wilted and

grown,

wilted and grown

and remained.

my canvas

sometimes,

i am unsure of who i am.

i paint the canvas of my life with light brush strokes and careful detail.

sometimes,

i become coarse with the paintbrush or give up on the picture altogether

and toss the messy canvas to the side.

i am trying to figure it all out

but until then i am allowed to make mistakes, i am allowed to paint with or without purpose,

i am allowed to get frustrated with my canvas.