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BECAUSE BABY GIRL? I would turn off your alarm clock right before it’s time to set it, and close the blinds, and ocean wave your soundscape without a morning call -  Because baby girl? You’ve got work to do - it’s time to get hands dirty.  You are so busy cleaning the weight of palms holding his forgiveness   And I can promise you that this won’t be the last time you hold a man’s pain as your own. I know it’s heavy, but raise your fingers above your heart and spread them wide like a sinner on Sunday, so your bones know air -  Because you’ve been curled in like the ringlets of your enemy, and hot ironing Your mistakes, trying to make them straight without steam and without starch   And I can promise you that this won’t be the first time you hold your own pain as a favor to everyone else. I need you to cut out his thorns from your chest cavity, like a brave Knight sending a sword to his King, “here...I saved this for you” - Because baby girl? You’re worth being saved; it’s time to reap and sow  Your own seeds, the ones you’ve been saving, the fruit of your own womb  And I can promise you this will be the last time you’ll have to water growth with someone else’s hoe.

3. You are the moss of my skin; consuming and grounding me into the earth like a mushroom of the ages. Let me grow into you, let me give what is left, what is nurturing and forgiving. If you must use, use the best of me, and soil me dirty.

1) I use to know what happiness was, and why I was feeling it, and where it was coming from. So distracted by long thoughts of youth, I neglected the privilege of sadness. 2) So vocal in her esteem, she rose to the high ground of provocation. She found things lonely there, closer to the stars, where everyone is far away, and no sunshine lives. 3) For all his gallantry, I knew the thoughts in his head made his heart weak. I knew he loved me enough to bring a mist before the eye, that a fatal song would bring chills of the spine. I knew, because he knew, because we were one apart more than we were two together.

3) Empty spaces, and empty rooms, and negative motives, and reasons to never forgive each other, let alone ourselves. But how much good would that do? If matter can neither be created nor destroyed, and our paths crossing cannot be forgotten, than we’ll do what artists do, and transform.

1-3) You are fearlessly yourself, nothing more and nothing less. You are a true original-so beautiful and so perfect in every moment you breathe, and you will be made fun of. You will be ignored, and you will be misunderstood. You will feel that all of what you've done, of all that you have accomplished, has been out of fear, has been unoriginal, and ugly and so imperfect that you needn't bother to breathe at all. And all of that actually matters, nothing more and nothing less. Matter cannot be created nor destroyed, so let the moments of triumph and doubt pass through you - even if they are back to back so quickly you blink twice. You are the metamorphosis of your dreams.

3) In order to observe the prospects of your character, you will first need to tell me all the superficial things in conjunction to your physical appearance for me to judge accordingly, because that’s all my boss and society platforms will want to hear anyway.

3) She was on the verge of mental breakdown, and simultaneously the happiest she’s been in years. The verge, the edge, and cliff, they’re all jumping off points to a fall of change.

1-3) "I'm very open socially" "Really? You? You who bears her soul to no one?"

1) They tell you to show more emotion, to be unemotional, to portray that which you feel, without all the feelings, and it's always too much and it's always too little...but it will always be accepted and loved within the moment simply because you were brave enough to share it. 2) Heartache comes in so many shapes, and all of them are big and they never fit together. 3) You made me feel things I thought I'd forgotten

1) I am the perfect imbalance. Never quite patient enough, and never quite full of gumption. 2) I wanted someone to reach inside me, pull out a scream all tangled and mangled with someone else's voice, and release it slowly and gently. I wanted to see its physical form, it's warped cluster of air and sound, of deep rooted gravity. 3) you're not what I imagined, nor what I've seen or pictured. At this time, I'm not sure you're better-but I know when I've fallen, and I know you're the rabbit hole of my heart.

3) I cannot fix it, because I cannot face it. It's not normal to still be pining over a relationship that has ended over a decade ago, but it's the way it ended. Every day, it's easier and easier to insert lovelier memories than the facts-soon the entire events of a time are completely made up.

1) In the dank atmosphere of my mouth, you left the torn roots of a bramble and brittle love that should've been left near the center of me. It's growing now, in the roots of my molars, in the crevasse of my tongue, in the hollow tube of my esophagus. You really ought not to have planted there; I'm a mouth garden, a walking invitation for anyone to leave their commune love affairs inside me. 2) We waited there for hours! Hoping the man with the buckle and pen would show up to relieve our boredom and superstition that girls on the 9th floor will never make it to the 10th and final resting place. 3) I lived in a relaxed empire of golden flowers, of turquoise jewelry, of heavy strawberry breathing and nothing...nothing was permanent, and everything could be changed, and molded and made anew. It was beautiful there.

1) This is going to end, and I'm going to drive away, and this will be as if it happened as if it didn't as if I loved you as if I had no idea what love with you was what love with you is. 2) Living with a chest full of lies, all of them leaking confidence. I don't feel bad. Justifying my decisions would make me feel worse. Frozen, leaking, and flawless in my deficiencies. 3) Standing perfectly still - I inhaled the worst of you, and you know? It didn't hurt, or even taste that bad.

3) Disappearing for a little while might be nice. Maybe get a little boat or kayak, and paddle downstream a ways, give up control, and let mother nature’s current take you. Maybe dip the body in, get the hair wet, get the skin soaked, drown the heart, and let the soul float to the top.

1) Everything I do-it's all done so hard; brushing, pasting, touching, loving, drawing, erasing, mending, but the one thing I do harder than any of the others, is dreaming. That's done with a madness that hinders the rest of all I do. 2) I thought I would understand when I arrived at the moment - but now that I'm here, I realize it was never a moment meant to be understood in a state of Grace. 3) Sitting here on the velvet couch with a shot of whiskey down and the hours of the morning ahead. My throat hurts, a soreness that lingers like the waft of a bitch's perfume in an exiting elevator.

3) “What the Hell happened?” “It was just an accident!” “I don’t care - accidents happen, just don’t let it happen again” “How can we tell if it’s happening again” “The roads will quiver and begin to float. That's why it took me so long to get home.”