“She’s a daughter of the healers in Salem and even tho her wings are scorched she still chooses to do good.”

Can’t you see you’re toxic to me there’s no affection just obsession?

Some girls dream of princes and castles others play with matches.

I don’t mind his company but I wish he was you.

I feel too much and I fall in love with words – poet.

Brave soul, you will survive it all.

With him, the tides the moon, and life itself lost their spell over her.

Some nights I wish I could slip into her skin and wear her flesh only to feel his touch.

And you broke me in all the ways I loved you.

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

And you will always be my most beautiful someone.

And his rough hands upon my porcelain skin had me howling at the moon.

And every time I care I die a little.

There are parts of me that beg him to devour all of me.

The art of harvesting pain – poetry.

Poetry is not a cure for sadness but it makes the pain bearable.

I’m laying bare still untouched by the hands I crave completely taken by words.

Do not presume to choose your own way of serving instead of the one I have made for you.

Choose your battles one way or another. The world is overwhelming af already.

We had no choice. Sadness was a dangerous as panthers and bears. the wilderness needs your whole attention.

Jesus comes for sinners, for those outcast and those caught up in squalid choices and failed dreams.

I won’t let others stoke fear in my heart. I choose to remain true to who I am and where my dreams direct me no matter the hardship I might incur. I remember it always: Fear wins or Freedom wins, and I choose Freedom.

Life will knock us down, but we can choose whether or not to stand back up.

Don’t go for the booty if it kills you.

I thought you’d rather have a live donkey than a dead lion.