i wish my love was enough
to pay the sea so its waves
could take me to where you are
i wish my love was strong enough
to move mountains and planets
to make our universes align
i wish i could love you enough
to end the growing miles between us

He thinks he's so invincible,
Power-ruled and drowned in glory;
Bathed in blood and gold, he howls:
The Wolf King, lonely as he is.
Missing love, missing love.
But he will know
The moon in her eyes,
For now, he is blind.

Your words don’t have to come out of your mouth anymore because I envision them. I envision them when I am walking in an unknown place, at 1 am and I am scared shitless but too weak to run. I envision them when I decide to sit in the rain instead of sitting out in the sun. I envision them when I accidentally cut myself, looking at the drops of blood falling on the floor. I envision them when I am on the bridge. Looking at the water flowing, always moving at the same pace because your words go through me like wind whipping fast past my hair. They were never words of encouragement, never words of kindness. But quick words of hatred and loathing, and now I know that when the plate hits the wall of my kitchen, and I look down to see the shattered pieces, instead of picking it up I like to just leave it there. Just how you left me. Broken.

We couldn't say what we meant,
Because we didn't know.

Surely we meant Something,
But Something didn't show.

Something was meant to be powerful!
Something was meant to be good!

Instead we said what we didn't mean.
And neither understood.

this is what your mother does not want you to see,
that your ancestors rattled the cages so hard they broke
and learned to tame the lioness that stepped out from the aftermath.
you can find your linage in the dirt beneath your grandmothers fingernails,
here is the fight that they poured into your soul,
the mountains that they climbed,
the battles that they conquered.
your mothers grandmother laughs like wicken,
carries something valuable in the deep creases of her skin,
tells you not to waste your time with love and lust,
but to chase the wind while your feet are strong enough to carry you.
this is what your mother does not want you to see,
that you come from a long line of women nothing close to tame.
that you carry the blood of those who molded the world,
instead of letting it mold them.

knocking on hell's gate—
heaven isn't open on sundays