Imperfections;

If you asked me to write a list of all my perfections,
I’ll be honest with you,
That would be something I would find very hard to do.
But if you asked me to write a list of all my imperfections, I’d say how honest do you want me to be with you?
As the list will go on for days and days,
And it’s frustrating because in many ways my weaknesses gives me strength,
But they also keep me down.
I can’t tell you how many doors have been shut in my face,
Because I have been unable to keep up with the pace,
Be the winner,
Knocking everyone out of the race,
First place!
I’m used to loosing now,
Not placing at all,
But I know deep down I’ve not given up,
I still can feel it,
Nothing can destroy all of that,
And as a reminder
the blisters on my fingers show that I’m a fighter,
I’ve just had to change lanes.
We all fall,
But we don’t all get back up.
Judge me from a far,
Once destined to be a star,
You now may think of me as a looser,
That I have been dropped out,
That I have given up,
But you’re wrong to doubt me,
I’m still standing,
I’m just leaning,
Got my crutch whilst I’m healing,
It’s more of a feeling,
Like how longs a piece of string,
Or the distance from the floor to the ceiling,
Then a measurement of time that can be reeled in.
So delicate,
Yet still strong,
I want to prove the ignorant wrong,
But that is not where my strength comes from,
At my lowest,
When all those around me had given up,
You stood up to give me a chance,
It sounds sickly to say that I have been saved by romance,
But all I ever needed was to feel unconditionally loved for the longest time,
As long as me memory serves me,
My history,
So many have left me permanently,
Not hot and cold,
My sensitivities persieve that as bitter,
I need continuity,
Consistency,
Not inconsistency,
Blinding me,
Leaving me in now way too familiar territory,
I once thought my only hope was a magical remedy,
To give me credibility,
To get back on the right tracks of my journey,
To get back to being strong,
But we were all wrong,
The super glue I need to keep things together,
In order to get better,
Even on rainy days,
Misty and blue,
Was always you,
I was destined to meet you,
You let me hold onto you and you hold onto me too.
You’re my one true perfection,
So that’s one for that list,
With your help I am slowly administrating personal correction,
And under your protection,
Just like this imperfection list in question,
I know some day,
I’m going to make it through,
Change lanes,
And all those closed doors,
I’m gonna burst right through!
It is hard to be me,
Hard to be with me gauging by history,
You’re making it look easy,
One more positivity,
You,
You make me happy to be me,
Confident to know that I will one day gather more control of BPD,
Feel less heavy from all the pain,
Be able to manage and restrain,
And hopefully be free,
Feeling lighter,
With a higher ratio of positivity,
Enabling my rehabilitation to be the best me.

My First Love…

My first love,
He was a millionaire,
These aren’t lies that I breath into the air,
What?
You don’t believe me?
It’s true!
And he was white too!
The love that we shared was real and true.
Against all odd’s,
We found each other,
We were young,
But we loved one another.
I,
The black girl,
From a council house,
With a young single mother,
Had unintentionally found someone quite opposite,
To be my lover.
We met in 2000,
The millennium.
Star crossed lovers,
From two very different houses,
Feeling all grown up,
In college now,
Ditched those school blouses,
A levels,
Studying English language,
Paying less attention to the teacher’s quotes,
Sending each other love notes,
Classic,
We slowly progressed from notes to texts,
At that time,
It wasn’t all about the internet,
Strangers,
Then lovers,
It was official,
Two had become one,
Inseparable,
Dependable,
Unbreakable,
Until,
We did,
Break!
Five years later,
Now adults,
Not teenagers,
we separated,
And spread our wings.
This boy,
This millionaire,
This millionaire white boy,
He loved me,
This girl,
This working class,
This working classed black girl,
I loved him.
Little did we realise,
How special this was,
Because it was so easy.
Now I get barely any attention,
And if I do,
It is so sleazy.
Most people peak at the end,
But I did at the start,
No one since,
Has truly had my heart,
But others have had his,
And so we remain apart.
Class,
Money,
Heritage,
Ethnicity,
Was irrelevant to us you see,
It wasn’t about colour,
Or money,
Our net worth,
Was our love,
That was our identity,
And yet no longer in contact,
I will always think of him fondly,
Because he accepted me,
All of me,
Embraced,
And loved me,
We needed nothing but each others company.
My first love,
Was just a boy,
And I was just a girl.

Hot Coals…

Prematurely,
Petrified,
Terrified,
I walked across hot coals,
Bare foot,
Vulnerable,
Exposed,
Scolding,
I did it for you!
Would you have done it for me too!?
Current evidence seems to prove not.
Because I am out of sight,
It seems that you have forgot,
It is the only reason that I can think of,
To justify just how rotten,
Your lack ofor support has been.
One should always consider complications,
Things aren’t always as they seem,
But in this case,
Whilst I suffer,
You seem to have wiped your hands clean!