“My wings of hope unfurl soaring through the broken battlefields of life. On a journey to plant myself and bloom in iridescent rays of reverie.”

If a home is where the heart is, I guess my home left with you. Please remember to water the flowers.

Go ahead break my heart. Although I love your darkness, the sun will eventually dry my tears and paint rainbows in my sky. I will transform this pain into poetry and these wings will carry me away.

I hope you rise like the sun, bright and cheerful. Fresh and free from yesterdays storms and ready to shine your light on the world.

You thought you could take advantage of my heart. But I’ve mastered revenge and made it an art.

Storms in his eyes, Fire in his heart, Lust in his touch, Tearing me apart.

Sometimes the angry sky rages before the bellowing tears spill.

I want to be his peace and his raging fire. His muse and every desire.

Have the courage to be afraid, because fear is a sign that you care deeply. If you care deeply enough, you will be brave enough.

Love is magic and magic is everywhere. You just need to open your heart to see it.

On my knees, lips slightly parted thirsty, ready for a strong stiff one. Make it neat I love the burn.

I’m suffocating on empty promises and twisted truths. I’m drowning in a bottomless pool of illusion.

I’m the fire that dances in the rain, I’m the love that lives in my heart. I’m the broken heart that crashes, I’m the phoenix rising from the ashes. I’m healing and scars, I’m the sun and all the stars.

Your smile keeps me longing for the taste of your lips pressed against my soul.

Insomnia. Restless soul. Long dark nights. Haunted heavy heart feels. Foggy.

Although you stood before me in all your tangible glory, your love evaporated like an illusion melting in my hands.

I’m the queen of broken hearts with a reign that’s sure to last.

It takes a great deal of courage to emerge from the dirt and the hurt and grow and bloom into petals of kindness and love.

From each scar today bloom the flowers of a kinder tomorrow.

Every flower blooms at their own pace, dear. Watch your own growth, not others’ one.

You, like nature again, will bloom again and change beautifully.

Bloom with your colors and fluttering wings of hope and smiles.

what is my poetry if not all of my sorrows blooming?

Your departure was like trusting the process of seasons. I never knew i’d bloom again after a terrible fall.

When we die plant us close so life grows from our love still. Even in death my chest will bloom for you.