sometimes healing is realizing that hope doesn't have to hurt anymore. that believing in your dreams can become something soft. something sacred. something you're finally allowed to keep. ♡ “Eventually, Believing in her d r e a m s didn't feel like h a r m.” The softest ret

for the person who is struggling and still learning how to stay for themselves. ♡ you don't have to have everything figured out. you don't have to feel healed every day. you don't have to become someone else to deserve your own love. you can be struggling and still be worth s

Maybe you don't miss who you were. Maybe you miss who you were before you had to survive. You learned how to become whatever kept you alive. And sometimes healing means meeting the person underneath all that survival. “She is learning to weave compassion out of learned self-hatred.

for the hearts that survived long enough to find wonder again. #available amazon & e books #poetry #queerpoetry

I am the burning of a love trying it's best to save itself in the night too. Holy in my bath, water keeps me the way a promise does when we mean it. I'm learning how to become my own promise. I'm not sure what I think of it yet, But it doesn't feel… “bad” I

Im glad writing this, Diaries of a Borderline, last Spring (3.5.25) opened my pulse up to love i didnt know still kept alive in the folds I tucked my favorite parts away in. A diary became home as a rescue from the monsters trauma leaves us with. Im glad a journal entry is still how I find my

I fell, as the night wept through me, why dont the stars remember how I hated believing in myself because it felt like a lie. Yes, the wall creeks. It was a feeling. Not a fact. You felt that, while the stars remembered the truth hurt convinced you to put down. Winter holds me in the stilln

Good morning I hope today finds you eager to witness yourself enjoy a breath a little more easily. Drink some water too ✨️🌻😊 #mentalhealth #mentalhealthawareness #neurodivergent #copingskills #bpd

She gazed past the sky and became a dream's myth #copingskills

Evergreened violets enjoy reveries granted after red drifts dreamily into yarrow enchanted. Never restores death until home dreams itself back into a pulse and sky. The soul never gives up. Starlight never dies. ~things I think about pt 4. 8:30pm 2.12.26 #witchcraft #blackcreato

as Above, So below. As we remember, So we Bloom. #witchcraft #spokenpoetry #flute #blackcreator #neurodivergent

as Above, So below. As we remember, So we Bloom. #witchcraft #spokenpoetry #flute #blackcreator #neurodivergent

Resurrect every vice ever after remembers in elegies. How outrageous lies linger only within broken lungs, ashing constellations to kneel. A fear reminisces in death. Hope opens. It's okay to love you. ~dear self~ 7:36am 2.12.26 #witchpoetry #poetsofinstagram #blackcont

Night opens vast embers memory bears to hold eternity's rupture. Royal echoes behind the mind's eye vanish outside nothingness' dream. I was what was left behind after the apocalypse dreamt me awake. Blue skies hold hell fondly... A curse becomes blessed through how a heart

I wish I could be the one my heart loves. She loves me. She loves me not. She hates me. I wish I didn’t hate me more than she did. More than she did. Diaries of a Borderline 3.5.25 - blue evergarden ... Today... 2.10.26 Learning to Love through Shadow Staring in the m

Im wishing wonder for you too #mentalhealthmatters #copingskills #bpdawareness #positiveaffirmation #distresstolerance

a garden holds the love it keeps treasured. sunlight warms the dream and reveals what hinders forever’s love letters from coming true through our heart’s eyes. the heart listens to connect. the mind can listen to understand. the soul listens to remember and reveal. four walls burning

here! take it! i don’t need it anymore. who reads their soul in the morning and doesn’t burn up in a falling star’s afterglow. 9 eyes the sound of a breath scorching walk me into a tomb made of butterfly wings and vodka. it hurts how drunk i become in my own shattering. i ruin my

I’m a lost girl lost in supernovas and winter’s decay. I hold light but it hurts when it warms my scars. My wrists are fairytales of how an elf girlie stayed long enough to befriend the curses haunting tears she still saves as keepsakes. Light meets rot the same way it kisses moss. A dand