I am incomplete, and always trying to achieve

the ever constantly changing picture

of the best me possible-

and for all my faults along the way

my intentions always started out good.

 

I am a callow girl with what feels

like a shattered heart over strangers and soul mates alike, 

feeling broken and adventurous over

what seems like mountains at the moment

but will probably be molehills

looking back.

 

I am a soul with a self prejudiced view

that unfairly criticizes every part of the detestable being

that challenges me in the mirror,

who always prayed to find someone that was amazed by

the curve of my thoughts

before the curve of my legs.

 

I am both my four p.m. laughter

and my four a.m. sobs

wrapped up all in the same skin that has touched and been held

and felt on a spectrum of sensations,

yet still wishes to shed all of it

and start over.

 

I am a mystery that has accepted that it may never be solved-

a time bomb

that doesn't know what could set it off-

a puzzle

always missing one piece

(yet not always the same piece)

in the most satisfying way.

 

I am a paintbrush still 

hesitant to pick a color

and finish the picture with it,

but not afraid to go back and perfect all

the minute details of it for the hundreth time.

 

I am a flower still in bloom,

searching and stretching

for the brightest patch of sunshine possible

without blocking out a different flower

from their own light.