You call me perfect
but I’m not.
I am
broken, beaten, battered
shattered
in a million pieces.
Sure, I sparkle
I’ll be your night sky
but, I am
rough around the edges
~sharp like a knife~
Kiss me, hold me
mold me, love me
I’ll be your reflection
your light in the dark
render me
impossible, unstoppable
soft and sublime
but in the end
remember that in my perfection
I am
perfectly imperfect
So, I am going to attempt a craft sale again… this time by my merit.
After the first [and last] sale, I am extremely nervous. Last time I was mysteriously ill (seems to be a contact rash coupled with copious amounts of stress), and missed nearly the entire event, spending half my time in the hospital or sleeping. I expect much less… drama and excitement this time around.
Continue reading “Craft Sales, Art, and Other Things”
One must love oneself
before the rest
in order to be true to self
What if, I ask,
that comes at a cost?
I love you as much as I am able
As much as I can
As much as the moon and stars
I ask you,
Will you love the wind?
Will you hold a torch in the darkness?
Be a beacon in the night?
Will you let my wild heart
run free
and
wind its way back into your embrace?
What is it like to love a pixie?
AÂ nymph?
Heartbreak and bittersweet,
(I imagine)
To say the least.
Like the turning of the seasons…
I have had the greatest itch to draw, but try finding a subject matter.
