Date me.
Date me and I'll never have to worry about being lonely.

Marry me.
Marry me and I'll never have to worry about what I could do when I am hungry.

Hate me.
Hate me and I'll never question your love for me.

Free me.
Free me from this desire that always wants more, then I'll know you truly love me.

Place in my hands a cloth of satin,
that I may hold it over my eyes,
looking at all those who pass by without allowing them to see emotion in my eyes.

It is too intimate, them seeing my eyes and ****** expressions without knowing me.

I love getting to know a new person, observing each new ****** expression they show, their eyes when they speak, the tone they use, the jokes that expose me to a new realm of their humour and personality.

I don't want other people to see an aspect of me without them taking the time to know me.
Why should people pass by and watch me in a moment and partake in a memory which I do not remember them being in?

So pass me a cloak of invisibility,
that I may clothe myself in it,
allowing myself to only be seen by those who love me.

I might have an addiction to music.
It was not my intention to.
I just like the sound of sounds in my ears.
Now I'm almost dependant.

I want to write poems about love.
A love so sweet, a love so kind.
A love that fills ones heart with love.
I want to write poems that don't make me
feel as if I am obsessing; obsessing
over past loves, or infatuations.

I want to write love poems without the thoughts
that tell me that I am obsessing over things that will come in due season.

Yes, I know you will come in due season, but can I tell you...
I am expectant of your arrival, I have missed you, and although,
I am yet to experience you, I have already prepared a place for you.

One that is warm and sweet, comforting and kind.
My love I'll wait for you, heart ready, arms held out wide,
so don't waste your time, come, come and find me,
for I will cherish you well.

I want to write poems about love,
A love so sweet, one so kind, love that fills ones heart with love.
But due to my awareness of my obsessive past,
I will think of you not too often.
I will hold out from pining for you.

Just know that I pray for you
And I pray not just for you.
Nor do I just pray to hold you in my warm embrace.
I pray that all will be well with you till we meet and till then,

I pray that our love will grow first for Him before it does for one another.
I pray for your family; that His healing love will surge through your family's bloodline, just us my love for you surges through mine.


So I want to write poems about love, but since you are a love that I am yet to experience, I will not create a fictional version of you, just to appease my desire to meet, experience and love you.

So to my the greatest love poem yet.
I look forward to meeting you.

I am not a poet.
I write poetry.
Once I proclaim: "I write poetry,"
The expectation for what I write will increase, and the room for me to be just me will decrease.
I will not always construct edgy poems, yes they are thoughts that trickle and are caught in my hands, but there are some times where my words are formed from the desire to create a heart warming feeling, to freeze in time a memory which stained me, to motivate myself to do better or to remember the memory of me doing better.

At times my mind is empty.
Not because I do not think.
But my desire to open up is closed up.

And that's fine,
Because I am not a poet,
I am someone who writes poetry.

My tongue has not always been merciful towards you.
My eyes have not always displayed my affection for you.
My ears have not always listened to you.
My hands have not always helped you.
My feet have not always walked towards you.
My heart has not always loved you.
My mind has not always thought justly of you.


I now see that this too is your first go at life.
So I'll not take that right away from you.


I will make sure my eyes always display my affection for you.
That my ears always listen to you.
My hands always help you.
My feet always walk towards you.
My heart to always love you.
And my mind always thinks justly of you.

The beauty of life is found in the small things we observe.
The smaller details we decide to pay attention to, fragments of life we decide to pick up to create our own images and perspectives of.

The beauty of life is found within, that is a decision to not trust ones own self but rather Abba in all of his wisdom and understanding.


The beauty of life is found inside out, accepting that what you see on your body is beautiful and does not deserve to be  demeaned by your own lips.

The beauty of life is found outwardly, in the way we choose to speak to others, whether those we dislike or those to whom we forget we love so much.

He is famished.
Sits in one corner all alone, he watches them speak, lips smiling but his mind is elsewhere.

Now they are hovering over him, seeking to flatter him he restrains himself from doing the same to the school of friends that pass and to the flocks of girls wander.

He is hungry; famished.
his heart yearns for comfort, embrace, encouragement.

His eyes tearing up, lips quivering he seeks to hide his emotions.
He must be emotionless, uninterested until he becomes interesting.

I hold life in my hands but I do not understand how to show it's purpose to the world.

I hold peace in my heart but when that peace wavers I am left to think that my peace was only an illusion of my day.

I find that counting on my own self does not lead to my peace but my suffering.

My heart wants nothing more but to let into itself.

My mind would love to do nothing else but play with fantasies.

But my Spirit,
My spirit wants to hang on.
Hold on, to the lord and not my desires.

If I bore my mind on my skin,
It would have been an atrocity to look at.

The inscriptions of my whole being, the seasons that made me.
Times that changed me.

If I bore my mind on my skin,
You would question if I was even a christian,
the lust, the anger, the sinful nature within.

You'd think that as christians we would be the best to begin with.
We know and say our God died for us, but on the daily we choose Him over what's embedded He embedded in us; refusing for his nature to grow in us, for him to have his being in us.

If I bore my mind on my skin,
The black ink will turn into a pools of darkness for the tears I shed mentally for fear of looking weak.
The insults I hurled at others trapped within, circling in dark spirals of bitterness, they would have the ink those inscriptions over my chest, as it led me to hate what I could love.

If I bore my mind on my skin,
curse words would take a quarter of it; I find that the further I run away from him, the darker my tongue becomes, you would have to paint my tongue black with ink and continue that pen's tracing to my teeth, engrave them deeply within, the gritty sounds filling your ears.

If I bore my mind on my skin,
The world would deem me unlovable.
As would I, I will not compromise.

If I bore my mind on my skin,
I would be as dark as the night's sky, with white specks of where scripture passed my mind.

I am the embarrassment I felt  when he censored over me.

I am the heartbeats I dismissed  when I saw him breathe over me.

I am the joy I feel each day when I see you drift by.

This peace that now transcends within me because you are not longer what I thought you would be.