Laura

Slain
By your zirconium smile,
I was slain by your olivine eyes.
Slain,
I was lying in piles,
Hoping shovels would cast me in.
Furnaces burn everlasting.

Black tattoos of you onto me.

I am I am I am

"I didn't want my picture taken because I was going to cry. I didn't know why I was going to cry, but I knew that if anybody spoke to me or looked at me too closely the tears would fly out my eyes and the sobs would fly out of my throat and I'd cry for a week. I could feel the tears brimming and sloshing in me like water in glass that is unsteady and too full."


by Sylvia Plath.

In the beginning.

It was hard, bittersweet, and full of wrong turns.

This leaves me full of optimism...

:)