Thirty-Five
35
Where parts of me are imperfect and yet in those parts I become one and whole.
35
Where all at once I am beautiful and miserable and glorious.
35
Where I am alone, lonely, yet if I repeat it again and again doesn't mean anything
Only that I am who I am and nobody else. I am my own and nobody else's.
35
Where I am finding crevices of faith here and there and boulders of uncertainty woven into me.
35
Where the sun hides and the moon appears. Where lines blur. Where various lives leave.
35
Where metaphors become truth. Truths obscured.
35
Songs. Sung in weeping or laughter unbroken after a year of longing.
35
Words. Or more. Lines or more. Rhythms or more. Vows or more.
35
I love you's. I forgive you's. I will love you again. And again.
35
Leaves turning gold. Kindness. Not love
Not just yet.
35
I will be kind to myself. From now on.
35
Where parts of me are imperfect and yet in those parts I become one and whole.
Where parts of me are imperfect and yet in those parts I become one and whole.
35
Where all at once I am beautiful and miserable and glorious.
35
Where I am alone, lonely, yet if I repeat it again and again doesn't mean anything
Only that I am who I am and nobody else. I am my own and nobody else's.
35
Where I am finding crevices of faith here and there and boulders of uncertainty woven into me.
35
Where the sun hides and the moon appears. Where lines blur. Where various lives leave.
35
Where metaphors become truth. Truths obscured.
35
Songs. Sung in weeping or laughter unbroken after a year of longing.
35
Words. Or more. Lines or more. Rhythms or more. Vows or more.
35
I love you's. I forgive you's. I will love you again. And again.
35
Leaves turning gold. Kindness. Not love
Not just yet.
35
I will be kind to myself. From now on.
35
Where parts of me are imperfect and yet in those parts I become one and whole.
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