An avalanche would have been jealous of the way my mother let herself go. She was only mere inches from me, completely crumbled in my desk chair, her flushed face buried in her palms and her knee brushed

smell flowers. lots of them. all of them. ask friends how they slept instead of saying, "what's up?" always remember the color of someone's eyes. record your fondest dreams. you'll recall them

he beat me down and broke me even though i have always been known to be strong after all the tears and broken glass i've made it through while he left me in shackles but all my heart still belongs to him