I am thunder

The soft, wispy clouds build into a wall of blackness, that bursts with such light, and such earth shaking might. My heart races, the storm has charged me with it's strength, and I run, leaping into the flow of power.
My body tingles, exhilarated, the flavour of rain on my lips, the smell of lightening on my wet chilled skin. The wind uncoils from my sides, churning the excited air, as I snap a whip of electricity. I split open the swollen sky with a terrifying, satisfying crack, and a rumble erupts from deep within me.

Can You See

Can you see my hands? Can you see the marks, and the scars?
This one here is from holding on too tight, this one is for trying not to fall.
Here's one from reaching out to touch someone.
This one is from holding on to long, and one from playing with fire.
There's one, for letting go before I should, here, from trying too hard.
And this one is for trying to catch someone.
This one is from trying something new, and here, from not being very careful.
Can you see my heart? Can you see the marks and the scars?
For when I see my hands I can see my heart.
I wouldn't change a thing, I love every mark.

In fond memory

Etched into my heart,

embedded in my soul.

A light in the brightest

memories I hold

Bottled Whine

This past year has been difficult, with little sign of it changing. I have friends who encourage me to talk about it. I understand, I have always let people use me as a sounding board, wanting them to know they can talk to me about things. But maybe that's the hard part. My roll has always been that of the strong one, the listener, the shoulder to cry on. It just doesn't seem to be in me to talk about my issues. "You need to talk about it." I was told "What is there to talk about, there is nothing I can change, nothing I can fix or make go away, so what is the point. There is nothing to talk about," was my response. But my gears were going. Does bottling up ones emotions make a sour old woman, or a rare vintage? Eventually, I went to a councillor. I didn't want to be someone who thought they were fine, thought they were dealing...until they jumped off the end of the known universe. So, I told this councillor my life story, start to finish. It felt... like I was telling secrets! I told her how I felt about each aspect of my life. I felt as though I was a whiny, self centered little Cretan, talking about things I had no business bothering someone else with. All in all, she told me that I was dealing well, that what I was going through was normal, and she gave me some "coping techniques" she called them. So what did I learn? I learned to trust myself, because I am a reasonably intelligent person, with stong beliefs, who already over-thinks everything, so if I feel okay, I probably am. That doesn't mean I am not going to honestly analyze myself. I do, frequently, I always will, that's why I hope to be a rare vintage rather than go sour. But, I am going to brazen forward no matter what is presented, because I am capable.