Dead lines

I am not a graceful person. I am not a Sunday morning or a Friday sunset. I am a Tuesday 2am, I am gunshots muffled by a few city blocks, I am a broken window during February. My bones crack on a nightly basis. I fall from elegance with a dull thud, and I apologize for my awkward sadness. I sometimes believe that I don’t belong around people, that I belong to all the leap days that didn’t happen. The way light and darkness mix under my skin has become a storm. You don’t see the lightning, but you hear the echoes.

If you see something beautiful in someone, speak it.

Time doesn’t heal you; you heal you.

Oh if only you knew the waves of endearment you create in me, Poseidon himself would be no match

And in her she’s flawed, with scars and wounds from battles she fought with her heart. Looking for a love so strong and worthy of the blood that flows through her veins… Never shall she settle… never