I come in pairs

My heart sees with one eye, my mind watches with the other. So my vision is impaired.

So my reality is made of gray images stitched together with colorful imagination.

My heart feels with one hand, my mind touches with the other. I may be partially numb.

And my fists are full of scars.

My heart hears with one ear, my mind listens with the other. So I can't hear you clearly.

So I'm deafened by words never whispered.

My heart stands on one leg, my mind walks on the other. I loose my balance easily.

And I can't run just by standing still.

But I have only one mouth, so you'll probably not know and not understand.
So I'll give my heart to people who don't want it. And they'll keep it because they like my mind.

dear you,

You are loved. You are not perfect, except perhaps in your idiosyncrasies and faults.
You are loved. You do not deserve it, nor should you earn it.
You are loved. Without expectations, but against your wishes.
You are loved. Not from afar and despite the magnifying glass.
You are loved. It is not a choice. Neither yours, nor mine.

You are loved. It is not a weapon, or a weight. It is not a promise, or an excuse. It is not an explanation, or a question. It is not a prize, or a punishment.

You are loved. I implode whenever I try to say what I feel.

Love,
me, not only myself, and not I

dear me,

during the past week you realized that you are stronger than I give myself credit for, you have more to give than I thought, and you are more loved than I ever imagined.
Remember that. Hold on to it. Hold on to them.

Love,
you

of words lost in hiding

I think of all the words written but unseen. I remember.
I see all the words written but unseen. I remember why.
I know all the words written but unseen. I remember why they're there.
I feel all the words written but unseen. I remember why they're there and not here.

Each one a fear. Each one a rage. Each one a reason. Each one a madness. Each one a tear. Each one a step.
Each one taken out and swallowed back in.

About the shell the ghost the shadows. About the never ever after. About the words you breathe in and the images you cry out. About the principles of dots. About the labels we wear.
Stories with elephants and giraffes. Stories of my dear almost never ever gonna happen. Short stories for people long gone.

You never fought for me. No one ever fought for me. Not even me.

I would burn my words and drown my thoughts if I thought it helped.
Now it is said. Not to you, but for me. So I can begin.