i am from tears,
from vicious scribbles and wadded up pieces of paper
i am from dead BIC pens (lifeless, thrown on the floor, out of ink...unwanted)
i am from a single dandelion,
whose seeds fly freely to a destination unknown, as if they were an uncertainty of thoughts waiting to be found.

i am from slamming doors and covers over my head,
from heart breaks and dead ends.
i'm from i'm always with you and just close your eyes
from i-miss-you-terribly to words-i-thought-i'd-never-speak.
i'm from he saveth my soul
with a broken heart to mend
and a needy reaching out hand.

i'm from his prayers and opening a beggers eyes,
cries and wonders.
from the destined trigger in hiding
the failure of attempts.

in pitch black begging for light
my other half waits for me
to share pitty, to share dreams.
t'was the sprouting of the wind blown seed,
new and so ready.