Dear God if I can't wake up tomorrow from these bruises and cuts, that tear up with sorrow. please send me to the day.. I had my first ice cream cone, send me to the day I had my first kiss, send to me to my first laugh, send me to that secret path, that led to the apple tree out back, where I met a gentle deer. When I arrive pull this knife from my back, erase the scars from my heart, hold my hands in yours and put this puzzle back together. Make me beautiful again, paint my eyes with pink so everything looks lovely, color in my cheeks again so I look lively, collage my memories, of happiness, I hope you can accept me.. unlike this world has. Please tell me, You like my crooked smile, my stretch marks, my acne scars, my snorting laughter, my quirky personality, my broken half, my dirty hands and tarnished mind. Could you? Look down at me and shine? Let me see it in your smile, let me feel it in your touch,

I wrote a short story about someone I think I love. 
I'm not sure how-
how I wrote the story or how I love them. 
I changed things a little bit, so people wouldn't suspect.
They didn't. 
This happened a while ago: going on a year, a good year, a year full of 
full of
hope?
I'm not quite sure.
For a time afterwards, I regretted writing it. 
I felt love no more. I liked to think that I had matured, moved on, become...
better. 
But today I look back at my short story
and I realize what I thought for a time afterwards was true. Not in the way I had thought. 
My love has matured. Become better. It is no longer just a childish carefree love, but a love deep, based in a mentality that we share. The most careful, protected love. I know better now, than to just love the surface.
Even if I'm not sure how I love-
at least now I know I do. 

Snow falls, blanketing the trees in snow

The heavy weight  forced them to sleep.

Until spring, sun and birds return

And, again they can put out new leaves

 

When the sky falls

I'll catch it on my shoulders

When the sky falls

It won't weigh me down

When the sky falls

I will raise up my chin and await the clouds to float to the ground

But in reality

I’m not strong enough to hold up the sky up when it falls

In reality

It will crush me till I remain consistent to a pancake

And in reality

The sky probably won’t even fall

But I still like to think that it will be me who saves it if it does