i'm not sorry
that i wanted sleep
more than your ****.

Tiny wrists.
Tiny rivers of blue.
Translucent.
I'm thinking about making myself a home
Beneath your pale skin.
I'd float along your lazy blue river
Until I make my way to your ghost chest
And burrow myself a tunnel
Deep inside your heart.
Light myself a campfire,
And pitch a tent.
Looks like I'm gonna be here for a while.
I am rocked to sleep with each beat:
Onetwo. Onetwo. Onetwo.
And my heart-house dreams
Intermingle with yours.
Maybe if we dream hard enough,
We can create a world of our own.
Where red blood cells sing like angels
Housed in four chapel-chambers,
And each artery stretches up far
Like a rainforest canopy
Riddled with exotic capillary-flowers.
Can we be safe here?
The heart has tender walls
But it is a soldier.
Though it may be kicked down,
It forges on
And picks itself right back up again.
Always beating,
Always winning.
Your heart is a soldier.
A fighter.
A protector.
I think I feel safe,
For the first time in a long time,
Within the home I've made for myself
Inside of who you are.

This memory I have
Of the you I used to know
It's wrong on so many levels
But its made me grow
Taught me lessons
Of things I should know
About your character
The way you truly are
But it doesn't really matter
The truth can only go so far
The way that feels
And how I'll ultimately deal
I could never conceal
The love I feel is real
It's a shame
You don't feel the same way
Cause there's just something about me
And I knew there was chemistry
But for some reason
You never gave a **** about me
All the things I did
And would've always done for you
You'd think you'd learn
You'd think you'd have seen
But for some reason
**You never gave a **** about me

From the back
of a quiet
bookshelf
inside a dusty
***
she heard
her husbands breathing
rattle and
stop,
she heard
the bedside sorrow
in a tender kiss
farewell
then stirred her ash
with menace
and welcomed him
to hell

to trend or not to trend?
who know why poems trend,
and why announcements that are not poems
end up on daily poems.

my validation and hope comes from connecting
to myself, God and others through the art of language.
I hope those who walk the lines of desperation as I have,
find some peace in reading the words of others who
have made it to the other side.

life is not all sunshine and rainbows,
but I definitely don't wake up each day
wishing I was dead like I used to.

there is hope and it all started with me admitting
my way was not working.

i am grateful today to be alive and to find hope and strength
in all of you, who are also trying find meaning and purpose
through creative expression of the written word.

thank you. love you.