“Nothing is healed in anger that was made in love -take the gloves off.”

i cannot breathe in any more sadness-suffering.

He says your poems whisper too loudly of ugly truths. He forgets he authors the endings.

I wept that everything he made was pretty I forgot that I, too, was an art-the girl with a soft heart.

To be held safe in our vulnerabilities -isn’t that what we should call 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.