“He took the pieces of my broken heart and turned them into a mosaic for his own viewing pleasure.”

He lit my soul like a wildfire and it burned me to the ground.

After a while the eye candy I used to crave became bitter to taste.

I don’t need a doctor or a shaman to tell me how I feel, Only I have the power to heal. I can mend my wounds into scars as a reminder of where I’ve been and how far I’ve come.

Its the little things that make life worthwhile, like when he looks at me with that innocent smile.

Flashes of your touch race through my mind even when I’m with other guys.

There are so many beautiful parts of me but your eyes were too out of focus to notice.

He and I were like water and oil, We could co-exist, but never quite mixed.

I was blinded by the desire to be wanted that I forgot how to love myself.

I never thought the victim would be me yet there I was paralyzed and struggling to set myself free. It took every fibre in my being to walk away and let it be.

Grief sits uncomfortably until it seeps under your skin, so you no longer feel weighed down by it but still feel its subtle presence.

Maybe those who hurt me in the past were not all monsters, but rather kindred spirits who got lost along the way.

I’m drawn to you like a moth to a flame, its no wonder I can’t resist every time you say my name.

I pushed you away like the ocean does to the tides, but we always come back together whether it rains or shines.

Please don’t make me feel special or worthy of your time, If you’re just going to feed other girls those same sweet lines.

I will rise like a phoenix from the ashes of the bridges I burned.

I’ll admit I’m not perfect I’m like an angel fallen from grace. I’ve been a sinner and a saint.

Friendships that die are like a lost art.

I cannot tell if it is a blessing from an old god or lovely dark art only that he holds my heart.

The art of harvesting pain – poetry.

The glass is broken into particles that now accept themselves as art.

Art has a special way of connecting dots from lost to found.

No matter how often we draw the lines, we will cross them – my favorite type of art.

Treat a work of art like a prince; let it speak to you first.

I have mastered the art of smiling when all I want to do is scream.