My Beautiful Mess

a poem

spot-lit in my brightest hurt

molded by every darkness seen in its light

born anew each day

holding tightly all known true

despite those so called to tear and leave



through jest and fury, I thrive

I remember

not to hold what isn’t mine

known — foundations from the muck

kept safe this truest self

held tightest those parts which knew bliss

defiant of lackful suffering

discarding all of me not from above



love; the greatest gift, to be a part in any way

gratitude so felt

still wanting every second, and more

to give up on them — undoable

when tried I break, turning fraught

no longer myself



such things they’d said — lost to wind

unaware my heart so in their hands

blind to all made felt

ripping me to pieces with every smile

each masterpiece its own



to move apart and not forget 

to long for them

always — no matter

just part of what’s left 



resurrected in spirit and strength

no longer burdened by sorrow

transmuted by fire

to live my worth — use my voice

becoming one whom they would love; myself

knowing it inside

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