And when you’ve healed
You’ll find that some people preferred you when you were broken

Because a drop of water
Is easier to manipulate
Than an entire ocean

The second time
It’s different
Like we went to war
And came back again
Home
Feels sweet on the tongue
Interacting with you
Feels like that first drink of water after days of dehydration
I can’t stop breathing you in
I always thought that first love is the purest
But what is more pure than watching the sky clear after a storm
What is stronger than experiencing the worst together and seeing it through
How can I explain to you the gratitude
I feel for the things we could have lost but that love helped retain
Nothing is the same
I don’t want it to be
But one thing became clear when we wiped away the rain
Nothing looks better than home
Coming back from foreign lands

She’s been dead and gone for quite some time
Her body decomposed
A skeleton among the grime
A single figure sitting there
Beside her empty shrine
The figure has not moved for days
Its bones reach out from under its skin
As if to touch
Her dearly departed skeleton
All her friends had come and gone
Family left, stating that
“Her memory would live on”
But the only one that stuck around
Was her starving, mourning, beloved hound.

The tears are streaming down my face
I’ve never seen emotion in you when I’m stuck in this dark place
I just want you to care
But all you can manage is a pitiless blank stare

is it ok to breathe
when others have stopped
how can I still be here
when someone lovelier than I  
is not

Hard work pays off
For the lucky ones
Often hard work
Throws your payment in a dusty drawer
Leaving you sitting
Heaving
Bearing the weight of the years
You spent begging the clock to hurry
Begging your legs to remain sturdy
what is done can never be undone
But it can certainly be forgotten
And the winner comes down to
The lucky and the few

There comes a peculiar feeling
With the completion of a poem
A sense of truth
Even if the topic is foreign to you
Like a mother giving birth
She has never met this human
But it lived inside of her for months
Connected in the womb
Growing each day
Just like a poem
That grows in the mind
An emotion
Growing in the pit of the stomach
And then comes the creation
That began with conception
And is born unto the world like the wailing infant
Desperate to be seen
As a passionate idea brought into the world
And in the world it grows
Away from you
In other hearts
Then you realize it is no longer yours to claim
That’s okay.
For there is relief in creating and letting go
What was once felt by one
Can now be felt by many.
Breathe
the birthing process is done