She'll TRY (Try to LIVE.)

And she’ll try as hard as her motivation will let her.
And she’ll smile as if her bones haven’t been crushed.
And she’ll laugh like happiness was never drained.
Her hope will outshine the angels that parade heaven.

In the darkest of hours,
She wont breakdown and cower.
She’ll stand with the perseverance strong.,
Guarding her love with her fragile life.
And though her vulnerabilities outnumber any positives,
Fiercely she will protect what she owns.

And now, she will wear her many flaws with pride.
She’ll sing as if no-one can hear,
And dance like every eye is blind.
She’ll hug tight with the warmth of admiration,
She’ll kiss with the passion she no longer struggles to convey.
She’ll master the courage to face her most painful memories.
And as the stab agony in her chest, she breathes deep.
She’ll silence the tears, with only few spilling from her captivity.
She’ll ignore the ebbing sorrow as if it doesn’t haunt her at night.

And when she inhales the toxic fumes of disapproval,
She will brace herself for the impending doom approaching, gaining speed with each passing second.
And with the last drop of ink,
She’ll spare a few seconds to think.
At all the regrets she’s held inside,
And to the page she will hesitantly confide.
All the ghosts of the past,
Make sure the suffering will surely last.
But then his face abruptly reappears,
And any uncertainty becomes startlingly clear.
Her ears register the faint sound,
Of the previously irresistible blade, falling to the ground.
Clarity reigns her vision,
No longer a car crash of collision.
And still she remains 4 months sober,
Knowing she will even get through October.
He is the best thing to happen to her,
Everything else is merely a blur.
All the words cannot tell of her gratitude,
She would follow him to the end of the longest latitude.

The kindness in his eyes will smoulder any doubt.
She walks with a certain sense of confidence now.
She sees life through lucid eyes.
She speaks of emotion without needing the brittle sharpness.
Blood will not pour from her veins,  Not even trickle.
Her wrist, her thigh, her waist.    All lay lightly scarred, but not scabbed.
Crimson exquisiteness has not entered her vision,
And slowly it fades from her terrifying dreams.
As her subconscious reinvents storylines in slumber,
The traumatic moments diminish.
And twist and turn to something so much more desirable.
Lustrous situations glow over anything else.

His kiss lights the path once so dark.
Inhale.    Exhale.
Breathe him in,    breathe him out.
Her existence lays on him.

And even when he leaves,
It will, without a doubt, absolutely crush her,
Pounding her bones to dust.
Severing her heart,
Leaving her staining the floors with a rain of crimson.
And even though everything will stop,
And time will have lost motion.
And unbearable torture will seem insignificant to her excruciating agony,
She will ever so slowly pick the pieces up.
And whilst she may cut herself with the shards of her barely mended heart,
She will see day again.
Because he has generously provided her with the strength to pull through.
The strength she couldn’t find in herself.

…or at least she hopes to god she will…