Quit quitting.

Mr. Brick Through Window
Mr. Holes Through Stomach
Mr. Foot Through Windshield
Mr. Knife Through Arm
Mr. Gun Through Jawbone
Mr. Teeth Through Heart

You are running away to a hell
That does not want you.

Go home.

You found her, and you met her.
Yet she was, and still is broken,
when you get to know her.

Be with her. Stay. Be in her shoes. Isolate yourself with her at times she feels like doing it. Feel as if the tears she keeps wiping were yours. Feel her torn pages as if a page of yours has been teared up. Be with her in her lonely galaxy. Be the leaf that catches her raindrops when it rains endlessly. Be the wall that welcomes her cold back when she leans at times her world were too heavy for her to remain standing in one piece. Be what she didn't tell you to be. Moreover, be everything she would be grateful for later.

Just be there for her. She might tell you she wanted to be alone, but trust me; she wanted for someone to be alone there with her, too.

I imagine outer space to feel like this.
like;
no matter what, I can't lie down.
seeing a star that close made
all else seem
so much less bright.
I'm unimpressed.
I just want to love again but, you left that spell on me.
my eyes don't see color anymore,
my arms aren't reaching.
you printed poems onto my bones.
my mouth won't let me say marvelous and my hands quit thinking.
I'll turn to dust like this darling.
I'll be a little sandstorm on your
shore for awhile and
dizzily dissolve into your
winsome crashing.

who am I?

I am not a wife.

for if the grave calls

and my love follows

then I shall cease to be.

I am not a mother.

for if the ground breaks open

and swallows both my infants whole

God forbid—

then I shall cease to be.

I am neither poet nor writer

for if the tide of thought, word,

feeling

ebbs,

and the well of inspired speech

dries up

then I shall cease to be.

who I am:

I am but one who follows

Life, Light, Truth.

I am but one who walks

the dusty, worn-out path

of a good and kind

Teacher.

I am a bamboo reed

bending in the wind.

I am a calf

nursing at her mother’s *******.

I am a pencil

drawing lines on a page.

I am a cluster of rhododendrons

nourished by the canopy.

I am a badger

finding shelter in the rocks.

who am I?

I am but one who follows

Life, wherever He leads.