She has dedicated her existence to love
affection craved and never withheld.
Living in a dreamlike state of untruths
that to her were as honest as the sunlight.
In dreams she lies in green meadows
the wind curving the golden barley.
Her heart is as permanent as the stones
her love unlimited and free.
She knew men that she called lovers.
They drained their needs and desires
Into her and she loved them.
She bore their children and gave them all.
When they left her she lost a small piece
of her heart.
Sometimes they took a big piece.
After many years she had none left to give.
But still she gave herself to them.
When she died she lay rested.
Below the swaying branches
Of the weeping willow.
And all the flowers turned to her grave
To bask within
her warmth even in death

you may not know me
face to face,
but you and I have connected
heart to heart through words.

Our lives are woven together by
the tapestry of words,
and into a living breathing poetry.

you and I are no longer strangers,
but fellow poets and sojourners
on this journey of creation.

They say that the key to finding peace is within yourself.
They say that you can find it in your heart.
But how can you even find your heart underneath all the arrows your brain shoots at it?
Underneath the blood and bone, muscles and skin?
How can you find your heart if it hides behind fear?
Fear is not your friend.
I know, it makes you think it's an ally when really it's trying to break you down,
Snap you like a twig,
So that you will become nothing but small pieces.
Dig deep, friend.
Here is my shovel and here is my shield ready to defend.
The key to finding peace within yourself,
Is to stop, and listen.
Focus on the things you value.

Love is my wings, air is my heart.
From a twig I shall emerge.
For true love awaits,
For the one who true loves me.
If only you will whisper,
Your breath into my heart.
I will shout to the world your name.
Then the winds will carry us,
To peace and a better place.
If only you could open me, in that moment you will see, this wisdom deep inside of we.

A word. That word. The one you said while I was sitting on your lap. The room was dark but dim from the moon shining through your window. That word. Say it again.
*******.