I choose to face the woman in the mirror.
I choose to stop running from the truth.
I choose to let go the poison that rests on my soul.
I choose me.
I choose to forgive so I can live.
I choose to open the shutters of my heart.
I choose joy instead of sadness.
I choose me.
I choose to see through new lenses.
I choose to embrace my imperfection.
I choose to believe in me again.
I choose me.
I choose to live and not die.
I choose to not give up.
I choose to try again.
I choose me.
Love is not just a word.
But it is power that breaks chains.
It is more than a feeling.
But a force that can cure hate.
Love does not hurt.
But surrounds as a shield.
Love is not lust.
But sees through the eyes of God.
Love does not condemn.
But covers shame.
Love endures.
It never runs out.
She.
Has it all.
From the scroll.
Of my Instagram.
Pictures of love.
And bliss.
She.
Is perfect.
But what my eyes.
Fail to see.
Is the masquerade.
Of her pain and hurt.
Her pillow case.
Covered with tear stains.
And mascara.
Tossing and turning.
Because anxiety.
Has overtaken her.
She.
Wakes up.
In the night.
Sitting.
On the bathroom floor.
With memories.
Of yesterday.
Morning comes.
She.
Faces the woman.
In the mirror.
Only to cover.
Her again.
I am here.
To awaken.
My beloved.
I am love.
I come.
For her.
Heart.
I want to be.
The soundtrack.
Of her soul.
My melodies.
She will sing.
For the rest.
Of her days.
Awaken.
My love.
No more sleeping.
My beauty.
Come join me.
And let’s dance .
To the beat.
Of my love.
For you.
I am beautiful.
Not because of the color of my skin.
I am beautiful.
Not because of the curl of my hair.
I am beautiful.
Not because of the curve of my hips.
I am beautiful.
Not because of the clothes I wear.
I am beautiful.
Not because of the zip code I live in.
I am beautiful.
Not because of the titles behind my name.
I am beautiful.
Not because of the money in my bank account.
I am beautiful.
Not because of the likes on Instagram.
I am beautiful.
Because I was intricately woven together.
By His golden hands.
Reflecting Him.
A
Masterpiece.
They say cover up.
But cover up what?
My skin.
What about my mind?
From lustful thoughts.
What about my heart?
From hate.
What about my soul?
From death.
Dress me.
In your truth.
Cover me.
From the naked lies.
Fill me.
With your undeniable love.
Clothe me.
With a new life.
Golden Writings 