as every drop
falls
remember this;
the rain
is not just rain
but refusal
to remain a part of a herd
that does nothing
but block the light
or carry a tragedy.
thunder
is not just thunder
but an apology
a low rumble of regret
for the transgressions of it's precursor
lightning
is not just lightning
but a warning
a signal of, somehow,
both hope
and surrender
at the same
time.
Feb 4, 2019
Feb 4, 2019 at 3:08 PM UTC
honey
after you were gone, everything started to grow bitter. all i want is
for something to feel sweet again.
chili powder
you brought a variety into life that i've never found elsewhere.
although i loved it- and, in honesty, still do- i've understood life
without it to be bland.
headphones
i hear the sound of your voice in the way people tap their feet and click
their pens like you did. the refrigerator hums songs you used to sing
in the silences you created when you stopped singing them to me
tissues
isn't it funny how you used to be the one who made my tears dry,
and yet now, you're the one who removes the dams my eyes had
finally built?
birthday cards
it is a profound celebration; i've been reborn into someone whose
love can no longer belong to you.
Dec 3, 2018
Dec 3, 2018 at 2:58 PM UTC
a bird may break free
but still fly out of it's cage
straight into a net.
Nov 1, 2018
Nov 1, 2018 at 10:07 AM UTC
.1. i know that i didnt give you the best headstart. despite how much i said otherwise, i always secretly hoped things would get easier near the finish line. ive yet to decide if how hard it still is means that was blind optimism or that the burden is bound to be bettered.
2. ive never believed in ghosts because its easier to think you cant reach me rather than know you wont reach me.
3. when i broke my promises, it left only me with the burns and the bruises.
4. when you broke your promises, it left only me with the burns and the bruises.
5. it was then, when the sound of the crickets chirping became a scream too strong to silence, that i knew there would not be a dusk i did not feel alone.
6. i havent cut my hair in years because your sister told me you loved playing with it.
7. when i wake up each morning, before it all comes back, before i remember, before i forget, before ive even the chance to do either- you are there, and i know that i will be, too.
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 12:50 PM UTC
i explain my joy as the power outage of a home
on a holler
in a hurricane.
the lights will flicker
from the sun
to the bellows of the ocean
in such a way that nobody
can confirm
nor deny
their presence.
you can t
a
s
t
e them
from the sidewalks
and the alleys,
but when they are gone
all you can taste
is the cotton
and cicuta.
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 3:20 PM UTC
your gratuity
is not sincere
if it is balanced as a pendulum.
the anticipation of return
counteracts
the authenticity
of generosity.
it is acceptance that brings humility-
acceptance that a gift
is not equal
to inherent necessity for reward.
you cannot define "gracious"
while using the words
"owed"
or
"deserved."
allow every inch of your heart
to be a gift.
to be opened
received
and valued
for it is not in balance
that we show love-
but in the counterbalanced abnormality
of sharing.
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 3:12 PM UTC
to pluck each petal
off of a rose
leaves
only
the
thorns.
i refuse
to w
i
t
h
e
r
away.
no matter the
drought-
no matter the
little light i receive-
no matter how
strong the wind that
blows.
i will
fix
my roots in Your soil.
i will
quench
my thirst in Your grace.
i will
become
a garden
in
the
desert.
no matter the
circumstances
i am bound
to b l o o m
with You
as
the gardener.
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 2:51 PM UTC
when my guilt found the spare key
my condolences became roommates
who never pay their rent.
living with the ghost of shame
changes one's routine;
toothpaste
tastes like apologies-
and isolation
smells like your cologne.
ive become an innkeeper,
a host,
for the parts of others
they insist on banishing.
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 10:09 PM UTC
only as i become still
do i see just how quickly
ive been moving.
after the tides shift
from defiant waves
to gentle fingertips
grazing the shoreline
as though it were a piano;
after the bonfire
sings its lullaby
to the wind
lighting only embers
and humming only smoke;
after the wind
halts her howling
and leaves the earth
frozen in one place;
this
is the only metaphor
for when my heart
closes the door to others
and only takes glances
or, rather, stares
into a mirror
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 9:17 PM UTC
you see me as the earth around your sun
and think this is “true loves definition”
and while i’d never say your soul’s untrue
not in the same way do i think of you.
i see you as the hands that make the stars-
van gogh himself could not make better art
your laugh that dances softly in the air;
your smile that glistens oh-so unaware.
i’d never think to say your love’s untrue
but you do not love me as i love you.
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 6:58 PM UTC