happy endings

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My story is not over.

My journey has just begun.

Just because one person couldn’t see my value, doesn’t mean that I am left with none.

There’s beauty all around me, but I’ve been too timid to live a life of just all fun.

But he makes it easy, he makes me want to run.

His eyes are like a supernova, right before it’s blast into oblivion.

Skin wrapped around me like the ocean waves crashing deep into white sand beaches.

“That’s my favorite thing about you.”

He says. I laugh.

Why? I reply,

“This skin of mine is flawed and scarred.”

And then, he moved uncomfortably close, and a feeling of safety filled my heart.

Kissing my forehead, his lips transferring all his warmth. He whispers,

“I love the scars and I love the flaws.

And more importantly, I love your skin because all of it is yours.”

Watching (In our library)

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We made love on our library floor.

With all of them watching.

Hemingway and Bukowski thought, I was the most ferocious woman.

Where as Shakespeare and Fitzgerald whispered of how well you performed.

While Poe thought of all the dreadful things that might happen, if we ever decided to let go.

It was only Dickinson, who understood why.

So many of the best moments only happen, every once in a while.

No matter how hard we try, to capture the feeling in a poem or a photograph.

And just as she,

These thoughts, these feelings

Are intended for none, although seen by many.