Baby Bailey

“Is this Purple?”

There’s a comfort in believing you are the most damaged you can ever be. The most hurt you can ever be. The truth is, we never are. As long as there’s a tiny bit of love left inside you. A little part of you holding on, you are never safe. As long as you breathe for something, you can never hide.

I am in the middle of it: chaos and poetry; poetry and love and again, complete chaos. Pain, disorder, occasional clarity; and at the bottom of it all: only love. Sheer enchantment, fear, humiliation. It all comes with love.

Please do not be presumptuous enough to call me a ‘cold hard b*tch’. You do not know that I was once a kind and gentle soul, until I became tortured by love and by hate, that it turned me into this monster that I cannot stand to be.

She didn’t feel it in her heart. She felt it in her lungs. She was drowning and he did nothing but pull her deeper into his own sad masochistic ocean.

I’d have been dead and buried long ago, if I wasn’t so afraid of the unsolvable mystery of what comes next.