I'm a bad writer (who is totally okay with that.)

Hey there,
Using a blog for it's intended purpose feels weird these days. I used to keep blogs like online diaries, hoping to be plucked from obscurity like Milk and Honey (R. Kaur). Unfortunately that never happened and now I just have a truly remarkable log of all my most embarrassing thoughts, tantrums, and occasional flashes of brilliance. Writing those blogs (and this one) encouraged my love of words and the way you could string them together.
But I have a confession.

I'm a really bad writer.

First off, I don't write enough. I've been working on the same three stories off and on for like 5 years. I'm less then 5k for each one. I post poetry when I get emotional or if I have an extra special thing to say.
Second, my poetry isn't really that great. A lot of it is rushed and ill composed, lacking in theme and structure. Following that, they get repetitive (though arguably Shakespeare wrote like 100+ sonnets about the same 5 people *hint: none of them his wife.) How many poems comparing love/life/ the human soul/etc. to starlight does the world really need.

However I have one thing a lot of 'good' writers lack;
The drive to get better. For a while my poetry was getting pretty good (it's 'cause I started writing them and then waiting to publish and editing.) So, yeah, I'm kinda bad at being a writer, but I can get better.

And at least it's better then pumping out 150+ that are all basically the same (*coughPATTERSONcough*)
-H.L.Vand

Then the Cavalry Came Rushing in. (5.11.17)

All life to me seems a stormy sea,
Till your hand holds mine.
Love, dear, oh you wild thing.
Some kind of otherworldly trance
Sets into my bones
As I lock into you.

Star-bound lover, how cruel of fate to tie us up so tangled.
As if pale Death thought he could keep me from you.
With his hands full of stolen hearts.
Not on my word, for it is us together
That can bend the hands of Time.

All I know is what I've seen,
And everyday this world grows darker.
Let us be the beacons we so desperately needed,
Allow all your light to shine through
And I will magnify it in all regards.

Through this misty forest,
Something new peeks through.
The feeling a small ocean thralled girl had never felt before.
Not hope, for that we have in spades.
But happiness, for the first time in forever.

We lucky few who tore through the fray,
Are charged with a glorious purpose,
To heal those who were wounded fighting by our sides.
Darling, now it's time to get better.

Desire (5.13.17)

There is a place where I go,
When the load is too much to handle.
A place to rest and let the problems tumble,
Off my back.
Where I know they'll land safe.

In this place of holographic hue,
Prismatic sprays across the rocks.
Endless stars giggle and flicker above me.
Within this grove of weeping willows
I whisper
All the things that I desire.

The feel of skin against mine,
Sweet chocolate and fresh sunshine.
This place to take reprieve from the storm.

While I am alone here,
I am never lonely.
You see, sometimes, if I'm very quite
I can hear The Universe whisper back to me.
Through the ever falling water off the boulders
That contain my secret grove.

It says in a quite, nearly not there, voice.
"I have given you that which you desire."
And I remember the freckles in your eyes
The way they shine at me after a heavy rain.

The Universe has granted me my peace in you.