New Heights

She deserved brokenness 

Like a caged bird 

Deserves a key. 

She took those shards of herself

And with them 

She was set free. 

She soared above 

The life she once loved 

Now able to see clearly. 

She pecked at the shards 

Of her own broken heart 

And built a mosaic tree. 

From that tree 

She found a nest 

To grow into a family. 

Without broken shards 

Of all that she loved

She never could have lived 

So far above. 

Her broken heart 

Was the only key 

That lifted her up  

To all she could be. 

The day she was shattered

She couldn't have known

That she would be better, 

And from it she's grown. 

Now her wings take her

To skies and new flights:

She's the flawed flyer 

Who soars to new heights. 

Reminiscing on Yesterday's Goodbye

I sat on the floor

With tears in my eyes,

Grasping your leg 

As you shook me goodbye. 

You dragged me out to sea, 

And by the time I got back

There was nothing left of me 

But gray skies carried in a lackluster sack. 

Wrapped around your leg I sat, 

Holding onto something real,

But regardless of reality, 

Your foot was the only thing I could steal. 

So you shook and you clamored 

Until I lost my grip, 

And out to sea you threw me,

Upon a sinking ship. 

The Pain of Perfection

If I am the impromptu text at 2:46am, 

He's the perfect reply at exactly 9:30. 

If I cannot any longer bear to wait 

To hear the words that seal our fate,

He cannot help but string me along

Like his words are a breathless, beautiful song. 

The wait entices me to shut him out

To forget the night I'd been dreaming about. 

It tells me that he's not really there, 

Like it was a lie to speak of his care. 

I fear that he places them on various pages 

Analyzing how their angles cause changes 

In the depth and the power 

Of the words that once fell sour

Upon weepy eyes 

Who garnered selfish surprise

Hung from doorknobs at midnight, 

Reading again and again despite

The pain that ensued each stoke of my angry pen. 

Spilling onto paper thoughts I'd never send. 

Fate works in peculiar patterns, 

Filling holes that never seemed to matter 

And fighting demons that were hidden

Beneath sheets and sanity ridden 

By men and by backs of knives

Whose sting reminds her she's 

Already alive.