No matter if we go our separate ways.

You'd still be my “this year's love.”

https://youtu.be/NzlGZDzdsPg

What I do know is my soul has lost the will to resist you.

Your tenderness covers my invisible wounds.

Your hand holds my disfigured heart ever so gently.

Now I understand what it means to surrender all that I am

for precious moments with you.

I was lost in the dark on this path until your tender flame broke up the darkness surrounding me.

When your dreams are just a few exits away…

You've been driving on this grueling road for a long time, and with each exit you pass, you are conflicted. Either you want to give up believing your time will not come, or you hold on to the course because you HAVE to be almost there.

But almost doesn't count …

Or maybe it really does count for something…It counts for trying, for even attempting to follow those uninhabited dreams. Trust me, it counts for something. So what happens when you are on your road, it could be a form of recovery, finding oneself, a better quality of life, or just your dreams and desires land you so close to the last exit?

Do you speed up? Do you slow down? Or will you keep the pace you are at and follow through? I mean, hell, you've come this far, and two choices are lingering in your mind.

Choice one; I can make it. I got this. I am literally there. Do. Not. Give. Up. Follow. Through.

Choice two; It still feels like it's too far away. I don't think I can endure anymore. I just…cant.

The last exit could be your escape to whatever better future you have planned for yourself. The previous exit can lead to another road, but each road becomes more manageable, less grueling, more rewarding. Remember, the last exit doesn't mean it is the end of your journey; it can mean many things for YOU. So just follow through, friend. Follow through.

Written: August 23, 2016 for the challenge, "Words of Encouragement"

There is no breath left in my lungs for anyone else because she stole my last breath by one glance. There is no form of poetry to convey how the universe drips from her fingertips every time she caresses my skin. She is infinity wrapped in a cluster of colorful stars, and I cannot define her beauty.

She is my constant beginning and my never-ending.

“I’m sorry for my brokenness,” she sniffles as her emotions grew with every inhale.

I hear her pain, her sadness, and I reach out for her hand, “You have nothing to be sorry about, kochanie.”

She sighs, “How come?”

With a small smile, “You’re like a vase with a few cracks in it. But those cracks are filled with liquid gold and sealed with the ashes of faraway stars. You are a work of art, a masterpiece that no one can destroy.”

She walked on planets and touched the stars.

Her imagination; a wild and cosmic ride.

I gravitated towards her like a wayward star being pulled into a massive black hole.

I couldn’t resist.

So I laid back on a small cloud and watched her dream a little dream.

The moon as my witness, covering the darkness within me that threatens to be exposed, and the sun, my prosecutor, condemning me to a lifetime of illuminating my flaws and imperfections; I stand before you scarred from quiet falling stars.

she was unbalanced and I the calm before the storm,

chaos ran through our blood like hot molten lava.

pain brought us together,

and love split us apart.

she offered me a cup full of dust

and I drained my heart of empty love and broken bones

chaos became our blood

she ran away

and I…frozen in place.

She was all dressed up with no one to love.

her heart wrapped in the torn fabric caused by sharp jagged fingernails and poisoned lips.

her tender soul was clothed in old rags and unfinished stories.

She was all dressed up with no one to love.

with lilies blooming in the spaces between her fingers and rose thorns for tears.

her unbreakable skin soaked with disappointment and nightmares.

she was all dressed up and holding the sun in the palm of her hand… Alone.