There is fear behind your whispers,
But understanding in my ears.
Sometimes.
Empathy is turning off the “do not disturb.”

Tonight I turn it off for you

Call me.
Any time❤️

Born from ice,
On a mountain called love.

I know too much pain.
My lungs continuously fill with frost.

I am numb,
Yet I feel everything.

Inhale.
Exhale.

Again.
And again...

Until one day there will be but one.
Be it fire, or ice.

I love you.
The three most simple words to explain the biggest human experience.
Because it will never fit inside a sentence well.

How can you fit lingering stares, reminders of "text me when you get home so I know you're safe," midnight tums runs, laughed-filled kisses, sticky fingers, "I made your favorite," gentle caresses, wrinkled hands held across a park, and memories into one sentence?

You can't.

We have to oversimplify the most complex thing because while it is real we cannot describe a law of force that isn't confined by limits.

A football game picture with an "I hope we win!"
And all of the sudden you ask where I've been.

I decide to be polite, ask if anything's new?
You respond, not much-how are you?"

Fast forward five minutes.
"Can I ask you a question?"

"Why are you such a tease?"
Excuse me but my sole purpose isn't simply to please.

Better question, why do you assume I am?
My worth has nothing to do with pleasing you, you sham of a man.

You backtrack, saying "You're beautiful and you know it" Which really translates to "You do this to me on purpose, now show it."

Well I have news for you son.

A woman is beautiful, whether you comment on it or not.
We do not change based on attention from men who are worth less than a thot.

So the next time you tell a girl to smile,
Just remember that we keep our lips closed because we don't waste an expression on men who aren't worthwhile.

And you my friend aren't a man, but an ***.
One who doesn't know the first thing about class.

I've come so far.

3 years ago I had everything.
I was becoming everything.
Right with him by my side.

2 years ago I thought I did.
But I acquired pain & loneliness.
With him by my side, becoming my undoing.

1 year ago I started over with nothing.
I'm ambidextrous.
I've re-invented myself--it took time.

My healed heart chose not to sacrifice my self-worth for just anyone.

After healing came acceptance.
Acceptance that I stutter, constantly at a loss over words & phrases that used to come so easy.

Those three little words used to leave my mouth faster than uncontrolled laughter.

I once thought myself ambidextrous.
But it turns out I am not.
My emotions are like frayed nerves, afferent only, no expression.

Regret is soon to follow--whether from facing rejection or holding it in I don't know.

You scare me.
And the fact that you might not be "just anyone."
And the fact that I might be "just anyone" to you?
Scares me.

Turns out I've found quite the worthy opponent in dancing around the subject...

I cannot take a compliment.
Or so I've been told.
Yet I still have to accept them, like unwanted gift cards on my birthday.

Compliments.
They are not taken.
They are given.
Even if they are not needed.

I've been told all my life I can't take one.
Then why must you insist of giving them?

I understand, I do.

A close friend speaking from kind admiration is sweet.

But listen.

A wildflower does not need validation.
It grows despite any spoken words.

Dandelions require sweet nothings,
The whispering kindness of desire.

It takes little more than a breath to blow them over,
They break underneath anything other than quiet breaths.

I am a sunflower.
I stand tall and proud beneath a hot sun.

I grow to my own height and no one else's.
I sway beneath unkind assaults, and it takes more than battering words to break me.

So try to understand, I don't need your reassurances.
Tell me not what I am, but what I do to you.

In a world full of weeds, try to grow a little wild.

You always remember the moment you felt the most broken.
That was the day I had to ask permission;
The day I realized he belonged to someone else.
There were no soothing circles.
Only regret wrapped tightly around a steering wheel.
I was holding someone's else's hand.

You once quoted to me, "Every storm runs out of rain."
Little did I know you would be my hurricane.

Turn the pages of my mind.
Let me become so fluent in your actions, I become the supporting character of your plot.

There are few people in this world you can call at 2 am.
And not call for help,
But for solace.

There are few you can trust with your silent pleas.
The gut wrenching, heartbreaking silence where words just aren't enough.

Thank you for being mine, you truly have a heart of gold.
I want you to know I'm okay now.
And I think you are too.
I think we both made it through.

But I still pray you are appreciated, I pray she realizes what she has.
Because good men are hard to find, especially one so kind.
I'm proud of you

Being cast in Your image,
We thought ourselves gods.

"She didn't mean anything."

My dear.
She was never supposed to.

Years ago I met a boy.
Who became the man I followed across the globe.
Who became a boy yet again, years later.
Like a child painstakingly building a sandcastle all afternoon,
Investing time, love, affection,
He trampled me before the tide ever could.

I put New York on my keyring.
I carried the loss of that little heart with me everywhere.
I carried it with me into every chance encounter.
Into every lonely late night drive.
I carried that heavy weight with me in my pocket everywhere.
Always.

I'd reach my hand into the pocket of my coat.
The familiarity of its worn edges somehow reassured me with its loss.

But then came a glimmer of something new.
And I thought, maybe this little broken heart is only a memento after all--A token.
Maybe it's not completely broken.

Today New York fell off inside my pocket.
As if to say, "It's time."

It is the loss of a loss.
It's a relief--
The chance to gain everything.
And it's terrifying.

Am I safe in your hands?
Please, make sure this castle stands.
Make it a mighty fortress.
One with a moat.
Keep my wounded heart afloat.

White mountains capped in satin,
North face hiding behind a veil of frigid diamonds.

How I long to caress your powdered cheeks.
To float down your ivory aisles.
How I long to toast your champagne kiss.
To hear you softly whisper "I do" beneath my feet.
How I long to traverse across your velvet curves.
To fall head over heels into your feathery embrace.

It's something.

Old friends
New snow
Borrowed time
Blue sky

There's just something about getting cold feet.
I could wed you every single day & never grow tired of this frosted bliss.

She left the battle, ****** & covered in smiles.
Victory knew no limits.

I smile when I see your words,
I hear your voice in every syllable.
Spoken so softy I have to lean in closer.
We've never had much silence, the conversation always full.

What will it be like?
To hear your words in person,
To see the words leaving your lips
Like they were uttered in cursive.

If I stand too close,
Will you stay?
Or will I see you blush,
And nervously shy away?

You're a gentleman.
You take things slow, I understand.
But I wouldn't mind if while we are walking,
You would silently take my hand.

You make me nervous too
But I wouldn't pull away.
I know I might not show it,
But I really wish you'd stay.

I wonder if you think of me,
As I often do.
I often wonder if you smile quietly to yourself
Like me, when my thoughts quietly drift to you.

So even if we only have three weeks,
And though we haven't officially met,
And we're both just pixilated people with no commitment.
I miss you yet.

Crouched by the car, I curse at the sky,
Soaked to the bone while people turn a blind eye.

I blink.

I see myself with no mirror.
Yet it couldn't be clearer.

I blink.

This she,
These we.
They all look like me.

I blink.

All wearing the same high-tops with a wrinkled T.
The same me.

I blink.

They have died since.
Oxygen deprived arteries left behind like blueprints.

I blink.

They now resemble twisted mannequins,
Eyes lifted eternally to heaven, atoning for their sins.
Expressions all poising questions.

I blink.

I see myself, miles down my current route in a deadly collision.
Body at an unnatural angle--no seatbelt, bad decision.

I blink.

Myself at a party, sippin' on some whiskey.
A quick plop in my drink ensures I can't get away quickly.

I blink.

The high tops I wear are worn, much like myself from abuse.
Empty apologies don't make up for the blood on my shoes.
Just another victims name on the evening news.

I blink.

I was the person who held signs saying "free hugs."
Now an addict, I'm throwing up on someone else's scrubs.

I blink.

Is this my future?
Dead, abused, a user?

I blink.

A man appears, an umbrella in hand.
"Would you like some help?" He asks, helping me stand.
Where he came from I can't understand...

I blink.

"They call me Heavenly Father.
And I take care of my own--Especially my own daughter."

I blink.

"I've seen too much--What do I do?
I'll always die with a sense of déjavu."

A smile.

"I'll always be here.
Perfect love casts out all fear."

He's gone.

I realize I don't have to die from abuse or a needle in my vein.
I don't need to choose pain.
A laugh bubbles out of me as I realize, I just met God in the rain.

Today she crawled inside a book.
All it took was just one look.
The authors demons silenced the ones she has yet to put down on paper.

5 A steeping beauty.
7 The absence of absorption
5 Holds surface tension.
7 She, engrossed in quiet thought,
8 Brews a turbulent sea in depth.

As I watch the sun go down over the pines.
I can't help but think how home smells like gin.
And how there's a certain irony to that.
How I want to drown myself in it.
And forget I ever left.

You say you don't know what to do, what to say.
Your heart is too heavy, so it starts to pray.

He refuses to listen.
Your heart aches & your eyes glisten.
This man you call father,
Now can't be bothered.

You wish to speak.
But you are tired and he is weak.
You wish to be heard.
But his memory is foggy & his prospective has blurred.

You need answers to hard questions, such as: "You've hurt me & you don't know your family... Do you even care?"
But you're greeted by silence & a confused stare.
He then mumbles how "You've got it all wrong..."
He says you're ill-informed & goes on & on.

He is the father & you are the child,
Your claim is invalid & you remain unreconciled.
The long winded lecture then turns into some maintenance "project."
It always ends this way in retrospect.

You come back home.
And collapse into the couch with a groan.
Defeated, you speak quietly through your hands.
I wait patiently for you to start so I can understand.

"...I hope Your father never becomes like him--a man who strives to hold onto nothing but ego & wealth at the expense of his family. I hope that's something you never have to see."

He looks so deflated.
His heart is heavily weighted.
I suddenly notice he's got more laugh lines around his eyes, and how we have the same chin.
People often tell me we share the same grin.

His silent doubts & unanswered questions leave him falling apart.
My hero who always fixed my "ouchies" now sits with a bruised & heavy heart.
Because his dad never said "I love you" enough.
And I don't know what to say, because mine never stopped.

I used to scroll through people's lives.
They all look so exciting.
And here I am.
Living quietly.
Content, but with nothing to show.

Now I'm posting my own happiness.
Trying to show proof of something that doesn't live here.
Now others scroll through me.
Subtext captioned, "Can I pull off the happy look? Are you envious yet?"

The sad part is we are all quietly falling apart.
You cannot document a soul,
You can only see where it's been.
You shouldn't be saying "55 weeks ago, I was happy."

That is not what a happy life is.
Happiness doesn't have time to document itself.
Happiness is candid.
It happens when you don't plan on it & rarely does someone capture it in a still.
It's hard to capture something that's always moving.
But I guarantee if it was captured, it wasn't by you.

It was captured happening to you.
You can't force it against its will.
Happiness comes fast & leaves quietly.
You can only invite it in.

In a shallow society it's hard to find depth.
Often we end up holding our breath for no reason.
We get comfortable wading.

And then we're caught unprepared.
Quickly we rise to the surface, coughing, breathing quickly in an environment with no added pressure.

On the surface everything is easy.
But you will never gain insight without looking down.
Shallow worries float, easily swayed--Wisdom sinks like an anchor.

Depth.
It's hard to find in a generation that measures it in oz.
I'm happy to say, my life will never fit inside a glass.

Sink into people.
Let others sink into you.
Pull me under, I beg you.

Water.
Needed to survive.
Powerful enough to drown.

It can both quench & choke.
Often we suppress it in a comforting 16oz glass.

But sometimes,
Sometimes we find ourselves gasping to be released from the very thing that sustains us.

There's a certain irony to that.
To life.

Our control seeps out between our tight grasp like condensation; rings of unease stain our previously unmarred reality.

As if we have a hope of subduing something so elusive...

For the person who hurt me deeply.
Who is hurting deeply.
I forgive you.
I'm here.
I'll always be here.

The hurt you've caused is buried deep,
I suffer the consequences of your actions, they fester and steep.

Yet I realized something yesterday.
I hurt.
You hurt.

I have lost you, not by choice.
But you are my best friend, I still need to hear your voice.

I'm losing not just the future I saw, but my best friend.
Why would I choose to lose both parts?
I cannot overcome this loss, this death of both love and friendship.

Sometimes you are so quiet, I forget your thoughts are loud,
I forget you are suffering because you hide it so well, I know of this you are incredibly proud.

But even the strong do not always prevail alone.
I'm willing to put my feelings aside for the chance to hold my best friend close.

It will burn me, but one day it will scar.
Friends hurt together.
So hurt with me.

So please, just know I'm here.
You always have a place where you are welcome, where someone cares, where you can feel safe.
And safely feel.
No questions.
Less trust, more history, but never less love.

You are not alone.
I will never let you suffer through this painful part of life on your own.

-Love, untitled

Like a moth to a flame,
You pulled me in.
You were a bright light in a dark place.
You made everything brighter.
You kept me warm.

I'll hold on while I burn.
Incinerating myself for the chance to extinguish your pain.
So I can be a light for you.
Until I'm gone, I'll keep holding on.
I'll be your ashes to rise from, for the sake that you were mine.

Standing on the edge of an abyss within herself she looks down at its depth.
She's afraid of the free fall.
But she's more afraid to stay.

One of the scariest things in life, is slowly watching yourself become a statistic without your consent.

I asked my mother, tears pouring my eyes, "How many times can a heart survive being broken?"
She smiled softly, patting my hair and said, "Until the day it no longer has to. After all, why would it keep letting people break it if it found the one that holds its pieces together?"

My mom.
She always smells like lavender.
She holds me close as my heart trails down my face & splatters on the kitchen floor.

My mom.
All she offers is comfort.
And there is nothing I need more.

Like water through drain.
I can feel myself circling.
Spinning down down down.

You pulled the chain.
And now I'm drowning down down down.
Down into a black hole of self-doubt.
With no way in hell of crawling back out.

People always say the eyes are the windows to the soul.
Does that mean we see people with our souls as well?
We stare at other souls with our own-
Knowing there is something beautiful trapped inside those windows,
All the while being trapped behind our own.
Some are darker than others-dreary with no hope.
Other's are bright & welcoming, nothing to hide behind-transparent.
Like a moth to a flame, we are drawn in.
Window to soul, soul to window.
We peer in trying to catch a glimpse of the true colors of a person.
I guess we are all peeping toms in the end.

People are like houses sometimes-dwellings.
You never find them completed.
Some are foreclosed; deprived & discouraged,.
Some are declared condemned; no hope of becoming anything remotely beautiful or something anyone would want.
Halfway finished, they come only with a foundation & you're left with a choice.
Are you gonna build them up?
Or tear them down?

My mind is crowded, there's not enough room.
I keep telling myself I'm overthinking my own gloom.

I try to step back, to get some perspective.
Instead, I simply bump into another; they're simply not objective.

I feel lonely in love.
I feel disconnected sort of.
I can't explain it, it's probably stupid.
I suffer from girl brain, and either she loves or she hates Cupid.

I've never heard my daughter so broken.
I've never felt a love that strong.

You poured so much into me, a hesitant soul.
So I poured back into you.
The way it should be.
Love gives.

Then one day you said when.
You walked away in silence.
And my heart hasn't beat since then.

"I want to go home."
We underestimate the meaning of that phrase.
A phrase said by children so small it's considered childish.

What a small statement full of such power.
I've never understood the depth of it until now.

Home is the people who love you in spite of your shortcomings.
That is what home feels like--complete acceptance.

"I want to go home" really just translates to "I need to feel loved."
And that is not childish, in fact that is a simple truth not everyone is strong enough to speak.

I'm empty on my life's journey.
It's time to fill up.
And home, well home has the good stuff.

While you decide--

The weight of my tears are heavy.
The pulse in my veins is thready.
My heart aches, it's not ready.
But my lungs--my lungs remain steady.

My vision blurs as my heart splinters.
My lungs feel frozen, like a lake in winter.
Under the pressure I hear it creak,
I hear it squeak.

The traitorous ******* keep on going.
They open & close beneath the pressure of a broken heart, the oxygen still flowing.

I have weary heart syndrome.
The lungs supply its misery to the beat of their own autonomic metronome.

My heart is looking for the one whom my soul loves.
It is indeed a mourning dove.

A mourning dove inside a cage.
My atriums are fluttering, waiting to see what's written on life's next page.

Is it your name next to mine at the starting line?
I thought I was, but now I wonder if that was ever genuine?

You are the person I choose.
But also my favorite person I'm terrified to lose...

My heart is breaking.
My soul is aching.

Please, won't you choose me like I have chosen you?

I want you.
And me.
And a house by the sea.

I want quiet mornings, full of whispers & leftover dishes.
I want the saltwater to preserve your smiles, like saltwater kisses.

I want you.
And me.
And a house by the sea.

I want a wraparound hug.
With a creaky porch swing & a worn old coffee mug.

I want you.
And me.
And a house by the sea.

I want warm hoodies & hands to hold mine tight.
I want a walk by the water, on a warm, cloudless night.

But for right now, I'll happily settle for saying goodnight.

Some life lessons are hard earned.
For some unnecessarily.
Some places are forever tainted, others rarely...

Kitchens for instance.
Kitchens are where loving hands hide smiles & leave crumbs.

Wrong.

For me kitchens signify greedy hands never to be satisfied,
Exploring places they shouldn't touch.

That was the place my childhood died.
I was only an urge to feed your carnal appetite: innocence hidden by a  toothless grin & brown curls.
You had a craving, a sweet tooth for little girls.

A cabin.
A cabin is the setting for most family photo albums.

Wrong again.

For some that might hold true.
But for me, a cabin is a place full of creaky bed springs & whispers in my ear.
You tried to wake me from my childhood to take more, instilling my with fear.

What you did to me was wrong.

It only happened once.
Thank God it wasn't twice.
I still never know if I was the only one, if I ever did suffice...