Grief Written

I told you that you could never see yourself clearly in me. I said I was broken, Your reflection  would be cracked. I warned you not to cut yourself on my shattered parts.   You smiled tenderly "You're not a mirror, you're a stain glass window. The cuts and colored panes are what make you beautiful. They're what let the light in." You saw beauty in my broken state. You took a step back and saw that the cracks form something other than a broken girl.  And because of that I'll always love you.

This is not going to be lyrical. This is not going to be poetic. This IS going to be blunt. And to be honest I don't care if you disagree or don't like what I have to say. Because someone has to say something. To the gentleman in the hallway, I wear skirts, almost everyday. I wear them because I like the way they make me feel. I do not on any grounds wear them for attention. I absolutely do not wear them for anyone's pleasure but my own. I do not wear them so your eyes can travel up and down my body. I do not wear them so you can leer at me and tell me "Hey I like your skirt" followed by the noticeably softer comment of "and your legs." My dear gentleman, you may think this is okay. My dear reader, you may also think this okay. I mean, he's complimenting me right? Just trying to be nice to a girl passing in the hallway. Our culture will have you believe that this behavior is absolutely, on all levels, alright and okay and everybody is just

I didn't write this but it needs to be shared. Also, dear anonymous, it's okay to be scared "I wrote something. I want to share it. Too nervous to take credit. It just needs to be out there. Over Life. I get scared. A lot. Not over scary movies or haunted houses. Over life. It's scary. A grandpa. The best man I've known. Loses everything because of someone else's lie.  He's diagnosed with cancer. He's getting better. The suspense is building. It's scary. A boy. A player. I'm playing with fire. I know it. But every time he touches me my body goes haywire.  I'm falling. It's scary. A brother. 22. Single. Living at home. Gets joy out of people's pain. I love him so much. He doesn't understand that love.  I just want my brother. It's scary. A job. Lost over a year ago. The new one is a work in progress. Can't pay my school fees. Mom is scared. Dad feels like a failure sometimes. It's scary. Love. We give it. A piece of ou

She was a galaxy, Lit from the inside with stars. He loved the night sky, So he observed her from afar. But he was was only an astronomer,  And she was the endless night, So he sat with his telescope and waited until the time was right. He traced her constellations, He drew her crescent smile, But the astronomer never realized that even a galaxy can be fragile. She was constant, And so was he, The astronomer and the galaxy. So he found it surprising when he stepped out in the night, That the endless sky was devoid of any light. The astronomer fell to his knees and wept,  Her name fell from his lips in a desperate plea. He searched the grass for stardust, He looked for a flicker of her in the sky. Surrounded by darkness he realized, stars shine the brightest before they die.

"I want to be worth more than the silence on the other end." 13 words. 1 life story.