Crystal

She was mean and cold hearted.

She couldn't stand herself.

She was hateful,

yet an artist

That asserted gardens of flowers

But disregarded her unhealthy habits.

She was incapable of love

Because she had little--

If any--

Self-respect and self worth.

Her heart was broken long before.

I thought to save her,

so I got a crystal in order to help her.

My crystal hangs steady,

and in silence absorbs all

Of my flaws that I constantly

Witness.

My crystal and I

grew heavy.

My crystal

never stores

recent memories.

Not images perceived from the distant past,

Not those I make when I’m more than glad

To read the summary of the

life I wished I had.

My crystal only reveals the now.

It gives me only the present

That I allow to rely on, because

Somehow It reveals unequivocally the ground

upon which I stand on.

My crystal reflects on

My mental health.

Is far from sane and the

Books on the shelf

Depicts the beauty

I tend to reject.

For days of rain

I write and lose track of days

Caught up in the haze.

It divulges only in the

brutal and honest truth.

The kind of truth that

photographs could

never tell but see in full.

There's a difference between looking and

seeing the truth.

You can look at me,

Overlook the youth,

but I wonder more

Those things you see.

So that I can soothe you

From more than within.

02.20.18