happy and bright

She has been trying to pull her worth from him for so long. She has been trying   to   extract   her   beauty   from   his   skin. She has been dying to be loved by him again…

….but he will   always  leave her empty.

Yet today,

she is happy   she is bright.

She is pulling her worth from her innards, magnifying the beauty in her blood pumping organs,  she is looking upward— towards her Father, breaking patterns, shattering habits.

Quitting cold, leaving full.

(Mortal hands empty, her indestructible soul overflowing.)

She is flipping off her earthly gods, widening her eyes — and seeing their mortal designs. Throwing precious idols out the window– laughing as they hit the ground and shatter. Stripping bare –forsaking the chaotic clatter,   this cheap earthly glamour.

She’s down to her bones– leaving cold, brimming whole, fully– with what she once would not absorb.

She’s rewriting her story, tearing out pages that are not sturdy for holding, scratching out phrases that do not beat to the air of her cheerful new laughter. She’s ‘so-whating’,  ‘not-caring’, not interested in what you think she should be preparing. It’s her work, she is working, it’s her thoughts she is spinning, winning— while pioneering new verbs, erasing mediocre terms.

She’s writing, not editing,  creating– not performing,  simply being– not thinking,  beating loud- not dulling,  SHINING BRIGHT, in the prime of her life —pruning what cannot keep up with her stride, encourage her ride, uplift her in these precious ticks of time. What cannot keep her ripe, bright, magnificent, keep her dimples grinning satisfactory in the glorious suns   beams of light.

She had been trying to pull her worth from him for so long. She had been trying to extract her beauty from his skin. She had been dying to be loved by him again…

(….she set free the reigns he held on her heart strings–he reaches for her, he pulls…. the knot was let loose–she set herself loose…she’s hanging free, at liberty)

She can’t be tamed, she won’t be told— she is her own, she owns this throne.

And when she leaves, she sees he’s empty, he was always empty— like herself… when she tried to derive her beauty, from earthly temporal flesh.

She will leave him. She will leave him empty.

Cayenne fire,   overflowing with desire, bursting heart seams, painting pictures words could not explain.

Now   from a distance he looks like cheap plastic, everything he was to her   has melted

—and today

she is happy,   she is bright.