“I said I would heal with you-instead you burned my love.”

Your poems are so beautiful I almost forgot the pain you lived to pen them-from pain comes with beautiful things.

I live in fear go grieving you-please be the love that doesn’t leave.

While you’re posting pretty pictures I am writing love letters to you love & our priorities.

It is not your job to carry every burden to heal every heart-your love is a divine blessing.

I said “I need a love that won’t break me” while still choosing from broken boys-self-destruction.

He told me ‘I must be a story’ but for me-he always was.

You blame your father but it was your mother who did not keep you safe -why you won’t trust women.

My sweet girl: of course he has to object project & reject for if he didn’t he’d have to admit that he loves you -wise words from her therapist’s office.

You are the only one who lost -the rest stayed.

I am proud of the love I gave you it was laced in loyalty & light.

Children raised by mothers who do not keep their children sheltered from the wrath of their fathers, end up mistrusting women.

You make the pain I make it art-the girl with the soft heart.

You can water a plant but it has to want to grow.

Is your love the storm or the lighthouse?

I will not beg you to keep me- I can house my own heart.

His fear of exile led to mine -there was room for both of us in belonging.

The Sun, the hearth of affection and life, pours burning love on the delighted earth.

A thousand Dreams within me softly burn: From time to time my heart is like some oak Whose blood runs golden where a branch is torn.

I hear they burn for murder. Well, they say it just takes a second to die.

Love is the key we must turn, truth is the flame we must burn.

The trout in yonder wimpling burn – That glides, a silver dart, – And, safe beneath the shady thorn, – Defies the anglers art.

Quietly they moved down the calm and sacred river that had come down to earth so that its waters might flow over the ashes of those long dead, and that would continue to flow long after the human race had, through hatred and knowledge, burned itself out.

There’s a constant battle of me and healing; all of which still sits burning and intricately perplexed in ink.

Sulfur, when burning, absorbs oxygen gas; the resulting acid is considerably heavier than the sulfur burned; its weight is equal to the sum of weights of the sulfur burned and the oxygen absorbed.