You are the ocean surrounded by hidden thought,
Spraying tears of forever
Onto a canvas of shattering flesh.
You are the story that one must see,
Words crystallized by light,
Emotion pouring sporadically.
You are the pain I speak to no one,
Hereditary blossoms patterning out
Bites of my soul, perhaps a slice of my heart.

You are a flourishing rainforest,
Growing subtle roots, and weak, jaded fronds.
You hold sands of emerald,
Beaten with jewels of salty indigo,
Infected with a golden ringworm.
You shelter (B)eautiful (S)ecrets within the folds
Of your shadowed petals,
(Shhh, of this, we shall say nothing more.)
Playing host, you entertain Dreams Of Speech,
Pale from wanting, vivacious from pleading:
So close you could slit its throat.

Fight, kill, destroy!
Little Anger Child has found a window to slink through.
A pyromaniac, she adores the sight of flames
Licking and burning your tinted panes of misery,
Especially when there is no relief
But to scream, and bleed internally,
All within the whiny veins that solidify your Tears Of Sage
(May you build upon the wreckage from knowledge and wisdom, my love.)

You are a geisha, an artist,
Spirited away, a slave to the pleasing of others.
You could sell those fragments of soul in your pocket
If you desired to do so,
But they serve as rewards
For those who have none of their own,
For those who beg for guidance and guardianship.
Years formative, you founded Renegade Acceptance,
An invitation for conversations
With society’s fermented individuals,
Who have no one to look forward to day in and day out,
No one to call a ‘friend’,
No one to listen, understand,
To sympathize and take their deformed hand:
Except you.
Odd, isn’t it?
YOU are supposed to be the freak.

In essence, you are too much for yourself to admire
Yet not enough for others to stare instead.
I cannot control you, I cannot change you willingly.
I can only hope to shield you
From your own kind,
From their minds,
From hindsight.
I will never perfect you, but I will outline you everyday,
Because you are gorgeous and pure,
Because you are impish and malevolent,
Because you stress yourself with pleads, wants, and needs,
And because you reflect all shades of innocence and maturity.

And what with the world in such shambles,
Such shame and conviction,
Collective hopelessness,
I pray to myself for an answer to this single wonder:
If I could just shut my eyes, (YOU),
Shut out this planet,
That salivating moon and celestials,
Those faces so confrontational,
Would I see any meaning of myself clearer?
Would I gaze nearer or farther, or deeper into what something is?
Would beauty and ugly still be packed into one,
Like a wanderer’s suitcase, free and alone?

I love you for your sanity.

“Amber, wake up. You’re getting lost within yourself again.”
Perhaps…I WOULD be better blind…