I blow the new dust
off the old dust ,
the dust that remains forever.
I told her ,
"You steal my time
and my money ,
my house and
all my integrity .
But you will never steal my heart ."

Perhaps it was all a play.
If one obnoxious day
I decide to walk away,

Will someone hold my hand and say,
“You’re better than this, please stay.”

I know more colors than grey.
I’ve just forgotten to dance in the rain
I’ve forgotten to smile through pain.
I know there’s more colors than grey
So I’ll try to remember today.

If you can still breathe,
It can still happen.
If you can still move,
Keep your pencil sharpened.

If you can see the dark
If you can feel the cold,
It means you still have a heart.
Just— your story’s untold.

Let your wings unfold.

Im not being rhetorical,
Or sarcastic, or philosophical,
Or any fancy, poetic way.
I’m just saying, there’s always a way.

Tree tops, tree tops,
Air swinging back.
Driving, driving,
Until water pops.

Fallen and dying trees,
who lived to help.
Wood that stands
With sticks as hands.

Hands that stay still,
As you go downhill.
The world follows
This oblivious drill.

Yet you drive and drive
Until water you find.

You’re an evergreen.
You don’t take to survive;
You’re a shelter for life.
If you drive and drive,
I know water you’ll find.

maybe just a little line
right beneath your pulse
and mine
like
“i wanted to say this sooner,”
or
“you looked so beautiful
yesterday, at noon, or”
i forgot the time.

maybe
“i fell for you on a thursday,”
even if i don’t quite recall the day
or what you wore
but i remember your smile
and i stayed a while.

i’d write it small, just in case
you glance down
and find my place
a little note you didn’t miss,
a love letter,
on your wrist

and if you ever wash it off,
i wouldn’t mind.
some words
don’t need to stay
to stay.

it rests in a box — unworn, untouched.
a pink medallion on a thread,
carefully guarded, like a best-kept secret.
the tale of a flame sparks a sudden wonder—
pillows, scents, a shy, sweet blunder.
I’m haunted again by a senseless memory
of wine-soaked evenings—pleasant, temporary.
we were never anything at all.
no debts to pay, no love to call.
and still, your trace remains in my mind.
a bond of secrets, the silent kind.
I could throw it into the river, set it free,
so I no longer feel its weight on me.
but part of me still leans into the ache.

there’s a necklace in my pocket.

I do not speak
from the mountaintop.

I speak
from the valley I learned
to survive.

I sat where you sit.
I doubted as you doubt.
And still
I’m here.

Not fixed.
Not fearless.
But faithful
to the journey.

So tell me your pain.
I won’t run.
I have heard
its voice before.