The snowflake landed on her nose. All I wanted to do at that point was kiss her. She stood there staring up in wonder at the timeless grey sky, smiling to herself out of habit. Winter brought life to her face, like no other season could, enriching every conversation, plan and habit we shared. I reached out to her then and she took my hand, letting her face turn to me, the snowflake now nothing more than a wet drip on her upper lip. Her smile never wavered as she pulled me in and leaned against me, watching the snow continue to fall. I kissed her cheek and I could feel her head turn towards mine as she kissed my chin. Our lips met for a brief moment before we turned again to the snow.

Slowly, as I stood there my heart full, her warmth faded away, her hand slipping away from mine as I woke to a world of bright autumn sun.

Wishing the dream back was no use as I already felt the sinking in my chest. The all too familiar feeling of loss. How fondly I remembered her, how deeply I wished to be beside her.

To watch the the snowflakes fall with her. Sometimes wishes are nothing more than scattered memories.

Ghosts of beauty dance behind my eyes.

Whispered assurances of worth, slip between my ears.

I lay still while my minds eye follows my form

Laying underneath the warmth of loving arms

I remember the faintest kisses on my lips, the whisper of passion yet found

Waking I feel empty and confused

For should I dream of such beauty and wish for my dreams to come true

To love fully, plainly and honestly

When I know I can barely love in my waking life?

Not recognizing yourself as whole or even being in touch with parts your own body or the concept taking care of it because you really don’t feel connected to who you see in the mirror can really fucking suck. It’s not the same as being insecure about yourself. It’s more of this is what I look like and I hate what I see because I don’t see myself, so why should I care for someone who I don’t love or know. Being in a changing room full of girls at the age of fourteen and knowing you feel utterly alone but not knowing why, chalking it up being shy or mature or just not liking those girls-but you do like a few of them. So why? Why do you feel that you are a walking conundrum in whatever in female based space you in habit? Wishing you to out of those spaces as soon as possible? Feeling a drop every time you think of the male friendships you lost because all of sudden you were growing up...and you were ‘changing’ so you couldn’t be friends in the same way or even be treated like you used to or get along in any of the same ways. Choking up because it’s something you’ve buried so deep because it was just something that ‘happens’. But, it never felt right. It never made sense. So you sit here and hold all these things in chalking it up being normal things everyone feels but realizing too late that not everyone really does and that shyness and these feelings don’t entirely match up.

I have always felt

Out of place

Deeply strange and unknown

Kids can be cruel

But what of the kids who feel they are cruel for being

Just being

Unaware of who they are when everyone seems to find it so easy to just be

Kids who felt pushed away from places that they felt happy in because they were suddenly now being told this is who you are and how you behave

Growing up to feel so that this is what you’ve got so this is where you belong

When you ask why things have to change and no one understands that your world is shrinking before you can stop it

Laying on this earth, under this sky, you could almost believe you belong. That you are here with purpose, that you have more roots than a tree that’s lived a hundred years. You won’t acknowledge that you feel at peace laying here letting the waters lap up and down your legs. If you let yourself think then other things will slip through. Like nails to a chalkboard those other thoughts with rip through your brain. So, you are going let those creeping thoughts all slip and fade for now. Even if you still let yourself wonder how it is you can do nothing and feel better than when you will eventually have get up and dry off. But, still you lay here with your eyes closed feeling the warmth of the sun, the glare almost blinding and believe you are at home.

Holding onto that which does not exist is way of a escape for me. Notions of grandeur and character that I have not, lets me forget who I am. Someone lost, someone like many others...young, unsure and holding on to too much. Envisioning and speaking my problems through imaginary characters let’s me feel detached but at the same time connected in way only I benefit from. It’s makes me feel the way I can’t grasp or hold onto long enough to make me smile. It allows me to be a king, to feel strong, to feel happy, hurt, listened to, worthy, dashing, brilliant, a leader and so much more. I have always since childhood connected with this image of medieval knights, kings, jousts, and the like and I use it to heal my mind when it becomes to over run with thoughts and feelings that I hate and feel shame for...for not loving the delicate, stark parts of myself that make me feel as though I do nothing but hurt, burden and hurt again. Writing within fantasy shields who I am but also allows me to share some of my deepest feelings.

My heart covered

My hands curled in my hair

I dare you to ask again

I shake with the knowing, the fear of it, the stack of truth leaning to so far over my head

My eyes closed and wet

I cannot deny that my mask will fall and I will fail

It is neither weakness nor strength to me

It is only the guilt of the game that presses me up against the wall of my mind

My masquerade is paper thin and I fear for those who wish to pull the corners back

King among kings. Weak in what he says, what he thinks. There is only strength in how he plays off his fears in slights. He sees them as shields to blow back against his own dark thoughts. His own insecurities fill him to the brim that he only can turn his head away. To make king out of a peasant. A crown he carries for fear he will be struck down at any moment. Power, strength and are used as veils and cloaks for the weakness and worry he feels inside