i am a mosaic

It has taken me about 2 decades to understand myself the way I do now. 
I have observed that I am a mosaic of all my flaws merged into an artwork no less marvellous. 
They say my eyes are terrifying to look into , because there is hope seeping into my pain, there are cracks in my darkness, and light is finally coming through. They have seen attachment and abandonment, love; shallow and deep, and heartbreak with probably the best seats in the house. 
I have only been told why I cannot be loved and I reluctantly am learning to fall in love with myself. For I have learnt that a love as flawless as mine is only made for people with as many flaws as I do.
I am stubborn, I’m persistently loving people like the shore and like the sea they come and go. And As they go I erode. But I stay there, vast and endless, each time only giving them to take away more. 
I am a ruin, the aftermath of a disastrous love, but a landmark no less unforgettable.
—  escapemylense 

I didn’t mean to break his heart.

He is the clear, glass vase on the top shelf. I am a child, reaching for something I know is too good for my grubby fingers, something I know I’m not allowed to have. My fingerprints coat his body, and I slice open my scars trying to figure out his secrets. I pretend I am not hurting and pretend that my smile is genuine. He is too perfect not to hold, even if just for a second. The bloodied, slippery mirror refracted an image I was unprepared for, and I saw a reflection of all my faults.

I heard his heart shatter before I saw the remnants at my feet. Guilt washed over me as I was caught red handed by the parent of truth. The vase, so fragile, so pristine, was ruined by my carelessness, and I will forever regret it. Because I am the mess, even though he’s in pieces on the floor. He’s a mosaic, and I am discarded fragments. He is worthy of framing, and while he saw colorful beauty in my wreckage, I knew he deserved a masterpiece of his own.

I didn’t mean to break his heart.

I broke mine too.

THE SIGNS AS LINES FROM MY POEMS
  • Aries: "I will puke my insecurities and sniff diamond dust"
  • Taurus: "I have fluid velvet in my veins and my soul is a mosaic"
  • Gemini: "I am Janus with two beautiful faces/ You can never catch me"
  • Cancer: "I reside in the single tear on the fair cheek, temporary and eternal"
  • Leo: "Ruby sparkles and gilded stones build me from scratch"
  • Virgo: "I weave knowledge nets where you crawl to hide when you are scared"
  • Libra: "Wind and glass reflect me as I want to be, not as I am"
  • Scorpio: "I hide in the smoke clouds of violent explosions because vanishing is my role"
  • Sagittarius: "Hiding on camel's backs or in Opera Houses or in rice fields; far away from home"
  • Capricorn: "Crown me as your leader, free me from your dogma/ Let me save the world"
  • Aquarius: "I make flower crowns for otherworldly beings in hope we can make peace"
  • Pisces: "Long ago when Atlantis fell, I swam to the shore of a new world"
"I don't deserve You"

I used to think
“I don’t deserve you”
Was an excuse to leave someone
In the form of a compliment.

I never knew how it truly felt-.
Until you.

Because…
You: well you are Christmas morning.
And I: I am a forgotten holiday.
You: you are fine china . Perfect from your
hair, down to your feet.
And I: well I am a mess all through-out
You: you are a mosaic. Tiny pieces of hard
times crafted together to form artwork.
And I: I am issues since birth- taped
together with string.
You: you are solutions in creative ways
And I: I am problems in all of the ways.
You: you are Sunday’s coffee
And I: I am Monday’s drive to work.
You: Are everyone’s favorite song.
And I: I understand when no one remembers
my lyrics.
You: You are sweet smelling and smooth.
And I: Smell of cigarettes and feel rough.
You: You see…you are perfect.
And I: ….will never will be enough.

I am one with the Force,
the Force is with me,
I am allied with the Force of Others:
we are luminous, not dust alone,
and our energy flows ever through–
above, below, between–
yourself, myself, the stones, the trees–
before, behind, across–
the darkness and the light,
the graying and the greening stars,
the blue of death, the red of birth,
the empty white, the brimming black,
the purpling of crystal:
I am allied with the Force of Others,
the Force is with me,
I am one with the Force.

– hand-held transparisteel mosaic “starbird descendent” icon, provenance unknown. Found in abandoned living quarters on Space Station Alderaan during preparations for its centennial celebration. Prayer inscribed on back suggests textual influence by devotional poetry associated with cults of the Whills.

Keep reading

sometimes i just can’t take it anymore because all i do is try so hard to give and give and give and it’s just never enough and i cannot take it. i tried to keep pieces of myself for me and then i set those down and lost them or someone came along and took them but either way i’m just left empty and my hands are trembling and i haven’t slept and i’m so tired of always giving myself away and still never being enough for anyone and i don’t know what people want from me i have nothing left to give and they still just want fucking more and i can’t take it sometimes. i’m just venting on here because i have no one to go to because no one understands. i have no safe place, my house isn’t a home, my family is a broken mess, i am a shattered mess just glued together and maybe mosaics are beautiful but i want to be starry night and water lilies, not broken fragments. i am so tired.

They say my body is a temple. I am a woman now and that makes me holy. It’s a sin to touch me with your hands of honey. They say I should wait for a hero that is brave enough to take my hand and burn himself on me. They say my body is a temple and I need a man to worship me cause if not, I will be burned down. I need a man to save me because without a man I am the devil.

But I say my body is a museum. I am the fucking masterpiece on the wall, made of pain and love. I am fucking haunted by goddesses and dead queens. And I will give my permission to look and adore me but don’t you put your dusty fingers on my diamond-white colored skin. They keep gossiping me like nudity. I am the mosaic of history and madness. I was born in pieces of blood and gold, they did not know what to do with a tragedy like me so they decided to turn me into art. Therefore, people don’t feel so apologetic for my fate anymore, and when they come to my appearance they only applaud for my black humor and my tears. I am a sensation; I am the only statuette in town sculptured out of pleasure, agony and despair. I am the only porcelain doll that cries. Nevertheless, don’t you touch my body of marble cause your fingerprints will melt on me and my organs will kill us both.

My body is not a temple.

I am no goddess. I am no holy. I am no saint.
God made me a woman. And that’s beyond everything.

—  God Made Me Woman by Royla Asghar
Transgender Pride Butterfly

“I am the butterfly
I stretch my wings
I am strong
I am beautiful”

Mosaic proudly created as a symbol of transgender pride out of recycled ceramics and seashells on cement board. 50% of sale will be donated to the Trans Lifeline to promote the well being of transgender people and to pay for community volunteers who dedicate their time to help transgender people in crisis.

Price is $350 USD, message page to purchase or inquire for details

9

I got called “Blondie”, “Cutie” and “Sweet Cheeks” by almost every commanding officer I ever had. And when I was the youngest head of NATO counterterrorism force, I still got my butt pinched by five prime ministers and a president.

In a field of pretty roses,
I was not a red one
I was not the one to symbolize deep emotions, love, romance, or admiration
I was not the elegant red rose they were all so fond of
Nor was I a white peaceful one that symbolized purity, innocence, and true ‘love’
I was the rose that symbolized grief, rebellion, and death
I was a black rose, the darkest of all roses
I was the one to symbolize all the morbid things
But don’t you forget
That I am still a goddamn rose.
—  In A Garden - A Mosaic of My Misery
4

Everyone meet my new baby!

His name is Kiwi :).

I received this Sausage from the breeder I have gotten my previous babies from. She has been selling all of her gliders and closing her business. Kiwi was mated but began to get aggressive with his mate…So I was contacted to see if I wanted him.

OF COURSE I WANTED HIM.

WHO COULD DENY THAT FACE????

Kiwi is 2 and will be 3 this year. Im unsure of his birthday but I will be finding out.

He is a little on the tubby side and all around larger than any of my other 3. But he is a sweetheart. I thought my other little guys were sweet but Kiwi is like pure SUGAR. He is precious and I love him. I am very honored to have him.