You are a quiet voice in a thunderstorm storm,
Your cadence precise and certain.
You are a cherry blossom,
an offering to show me a hidden view.
You are the gentle touch that
trails down my spine.
You are the brown eyes and freckles
that I gaze at while you talk.

You are a small piece of my heart,
That stays tucked close to my chest.
You are the ache that my arms feel,
to pull you close and hold you.
You are the waves that wash over me,
in moments of sadness and fear.

You are the cherry blossom,
in outstretched hands.

m.e.

People can still hurt you,
Even though they love you.

You can still love someone,
Even though they hurt you.

You can still hurt someone,
Even though you love them.

m.e.

There is
No timetable
For grief.
It comes.
It goes.
No rhyme.
No reason.


m.e.

What am I,
When you don’t look at me?

What am I,
When you stare straight through me?

What am I,
When you turn away from me?

I am a sigh,
A tear,
A shout,
Away from being nothing.


m.e.