Eyes the color of bluebells that remind me of a sweet yet somber winter sky
They tell stories of love and life with pain and heartache
With strength and selflessness thrown into the mix.
What a beautifully chaotic mix it is.
So easy to love and care for
And with each breath, I blow out...
It doesn't hurt to breathe back in.
I fear of a rug being pulled from under me
Or fear that maybe the water on my soft yet marred skin is not as deep as I thought it was
Maybe the tree that I am hugging and holding onto is merely a withering branch
But I will not look for such things now
There is safety and stability in this.
It is odd to me growing up with life's ups and painful downs, waiting for the next shoe to drop with bated breath.
I see the flaws and love them as they are
I see the self-destructive things and wish them away,
But who am I to change the weather or the seasons?
Breathing in feels easier
Adding joy to the joy I've had and still feel
They themselves are not my joy as they are their own,
But they complement my own and add to it each day.
I love the person I see each day as they are.
As they grow and change.
It doesn't hurt to breathe back in
YOU ARE READING
Checking for Water
PoetryA love story that maybe I won't publish for the fear of the rug being pulled from under me. But alas. I checked, and there's water. I don't know how deep the lake is, but it's crystal clear right now.
