Promise me, dear one,
When you find someone
in this great wild world,
someone who tells you
you are beautiful,
and means it,
even though they see your deepest flaws
and know all of your old wounds,
Promise me you will hold tightly
to them.
because you deserve
love and happiness.
Promise me that when
you find someone who
matches up with the pieces
of your broken soul
who's hurts are like yours
Promise me you will give them a chance
to ease all the pain you are in,
let them wash away the pain of being broken
as you do the same for them.
Promise me, dear one,
that you will not push them away
just because you are weary of love.
Promise me, dear one.

"What happened here?"
he asks
and rubs a questioning finger
over a knotted old scar.

I was hurt
in a battle against myself
a war really,
is the real answer
that I do not say.

"Nothing, just an old wound"
I say instead.

Sometimes the battles of the self
are the worse kind.
I wish he would say.

"It's okay, as long as it stays
an old wound."
He says instead.

The songs of your heart
Their mellow undertones
and quiet longings
as well as the small skips
where you have been broken,
those little lapses in music
that you hope no one hears
All these things
Harmonize so well
with my own heart's song
my silent desire for peace
and companionship
my Fiery interludes
calmed by your steady, sweet melody
and the cracks in certain places
that we both avoid
You needle over me
and understand
even when all I can muster
is a desperate squeak
or silence.
Together we could make
such beautiful music
whether the tempo be
fast, or slow.

You are the crispness
of a fresh piece of paper.
You are the smile
of a dreamer.
You are the first brilliant white
snow of winter.
You are the defining full moon
of the new year.
You are the brave early blooming blossom
of the first hint of spring.
You are high tide
after a long day of footprints.
For the love of change,
please stick around.

After giving up the fight to feel
laying down all weapons
and allowing the numbness
to creep over me slowly
like ice freezing,
from the edges inward,
until my soul was fully numb.
So you will have to excuse me
if I am a little clumsy when we touch.
You will have to excuse the zombie fingers
when you try to hold my hands,
you see, they are out of practice,
as if back from the dead.
You will have to pardon
the creaks and cracks in my heart
when you try to warm it,
you see, it has not been used in a long time.

She has walked alone in darkness
so long that she cannot
recall how to match pace
with another.
Cannot walk with someone
even if they hold a light
even if they are a light.
She cannot trust them
to keep her safe
in the darkness.
She knows what it feels like
to walk all alone in darkness,
to touch souls,
but not to be touched in return.

All roads lead to Home
you may lose your way for a time
get swallowed in an ocean of doubt
but keep walking, or swimming
keep your head up.
Eventually you will find yourself
find your destination.
It may take a while,
but all roads lead to Home.

All roads lead back to you.
I may have gotten lost for a time
may have sunk deep into an ocean of doubt.
But I kept walking
kept swimming.
Eventually I turned up
at my destination,
on your doorstep.
It took a while,
but all roads lead me back to you.