“I am both mud and lotus but, my love you only see the mud.”

You shine bright but not everyone can handle the light don’t dim down from the rebound.

My path to healing is only unto me I let it take me where I need to go.

My lips thirst for yours but they are desert dry our hostile environment has weathered our love.

What gives in letting go is so much better than what stays with holding on.

Friendships made rejections laid follows stayed unfollows played saves surmount algorithm count Instagram disses and emoji kisses.

You sucked all my love and all of me through your hollow straw I wish I had known there was nothing on the other side.

We were – one. I was closer to you than anyone – ever. So tightly bound. You breathed for me and I lived in you.

As I unfolded my hand she took my palm her eyes narrowed on the heart line and I knew by the look in my eyes I would always be heartbroken.

I miss you but not as much as I regret leaving myself to be loved by you.

This is a poem about love its absence is merely an optical illusion.

The shelter is where I am when I am with myself.

I have emptied myself of a heavy burden today lifted it out of my body and placed it down its not the end but it’s a beginning.

My heart is my muse my blood is my ink my pain is my pen my words are my healing.

Why do I push up against the ones who will not have me like a wave pushing its way on the sand when my people are in the ocean and we naturally flow to protect each other.

Authenticity feels like the glue that has put me back together I feel whole and aligned in every word.

Release the person’s place thought-feeling.

We are dust and to dust return. In the end we’re neither air, nor fire, nor water, just dirt, neither more nor less, just dirt, and maybe some yellow flowers.

You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming.

Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.

Give me odorous at sunrise a garden of beautiful flowers where I can walk undisturbed.

Die when I may, I want it said of me by those who knew me best, that I always plucked a thistle and planted a flower where I thought a flower would grow.

People give flowers as present because flowers contain true meaning of love.

Love is the flower you’ve got to let grow.

You throw thorns, falling in my silence they become flowers.