Alfa H

I am worthy of touch without bartering my self worth.

Love yourself. That kind of love can get you through anything.

She'd been taking care of others for so long that she scarcely recognized herself when she looked in the mirror.

I am vulnerability under scarred skin. Numbness crawling behind wine soaked lips. A cocoon of grief battling a chest full of hushed breaths, longing to escape the mod-podge of memories, that journal where I've been. Layer after layer they are sealed upon my person, encapsulating time in a vessel that has sailed one too many shores.

Promise me this. When you find yourself in need of inspiration, bypass the roses that will clamor aimlessly for attention. And focus on the souls who have actually 'lived' among the thorns.

If I read inspirational words, they better have some pain to back them up. My strength for moving forward has never been sparked by flowery prose calling me and Angel. Tell me how you swallowed Hell, and lived to tell the tale... the 'pain' and your transformation - will inspire me to soar. And I promise you, I will listen.

You think it's time for a new beginning. You long to start from scratch, so you seek new things - trying like hell to reinvent yourself. Out with the old and in with the world's new. But you'll never create a version of yourself that is as magical and unique as the original. So... just be you.

I scream out the ropes of words that bound my tongue, and the heavens echo back...'I love you'.

There is lonely, and there is alone time. I have found that both have etched character upon my soul.

Her mind is a mess, and she has no intention of cleaning today.

She was a warrior by day... playing her part. But she slept at night with wishes in her heart.

I don't want comfortable. My heart is not a recliner.

I did not willingly let half of my soul leave my body. It was torn from me. I still hear the ransomed moans. It calls to me for rescue, yet clings to its abductor.

They will talk about you and it won't always be good. You won't even know them but they will critique you - and judge you - and everything you stand for. Their words will cut through your heart-strings and make you question the hopes and dreams that have gnawed your soul since birth. I warn you, because I believe your unique gift of expression needs to be shared. Resist cowering down and holding back for fear of rejection. Spread those creative wings and create. But, prepare yourself. Because naysayers are not a possibility, they are a guarantee.

Heartache wasn't my intention... love was.

... I don't know what I feel anymore, or maybe it's that I don't know HOW to feel anymore. I question every move I make, every breath I take, and every flutter of an eyelash. I've developed a twitch from always being on guard. I'm alert at night, and numb during the day, but I'm always ready. Maybe, I can intercept tragedy from striking again.

You think it's easy to forget someone who made you look forward to tomorrow... And I hope you never experience convincing a paralyzed heart to keep on beating when it simply wants to die.

He kissed her good morning like she was the reason sun decided to shine.