This canvas is marred, blackened by burns — evidence of a life filled with chaos and tragedy. But paint can still cling to its surface, breathing new life into its worn surface and making it beautiful like it was always meant to be.
Time is fluid, but there’s a hidden countdown I don’t want to reach zero. I’m living in the arms of an hourglass that I’ll never see, but always feel. Tightening a little closer with each passing day until I collapse under its weight.
There’s beauty in the world, there’s beauty in life — the good and the bad. Writing about these things isn’t trash. That’s not honoring your beliefs. It would feel like a dishonor to shun everything about life that makes us human beings. Don’t think your words are less important because they aren’t necessarily about a higher power. Life, feeling, and just being are worth exploring.
Magic lies within the soul, the thing that allows us to breathe. To feel. To be. It’s almost tangible, like the grainy sweetness of a pear, or the gentle rippling of a body of water. It’s the freedom to choose your path and live with the choices you’ve made. But it’s also understanding when you’re wrong, and doing something about it. The beauty of magic is having second chances. To prove that love knows no bounds. That our hearts can find each other in the dark. And it can restore your faith in the magic we share.
I sought to see through her eyes,
walk in her footsteps,
and be a part of her life
so that I could heal through her.
What I found waiting was far better
than anything I could imagine.
And I never want to leave.
Little by little, it happened. At first, we fought like dogs and you drove me wild with anger, but it was never really anger that I felt. It was passion. I was mad with it. And though it took me forever to realize what you meant to me, you waited for me to see that it wasn’t a risk I was taking in loving you. It was right. It was magical. And it was pure. Not only was it the best thing that would ever happen to me, but it was what made us whole. For that, you will always be my savior and hero. All in one incredible piece.
I left two dozen daisies by your grave as if it could somehow make up for all my wrongs. As the skies opened up in reply, raining down years’ worth of regrets and sorrows, I understood what you felt in your last moments — abandoned and alone. I fell to my knees and whispered, “I’m sorry,” for the first time in my life, knowing it wouldn’t make any difference.
They were a war of wits
and stubborn resolve,
resisting the temptation
for as long as possible.
But eventually, they
raised the white flags,
kissed like they needed it
more than air, and
the rest was history.