Trespassing in the dark,
In a place I should have never been,
Soft and sweet,
Awakening desire,
I was happy it was him,
He was wishing for another.

The weight of your grace and mercy
rides on the shoulders
of my sense of justice,
because what is just
about you paying
for my sins of brokenness?

Struggles plague or day to day,
poverty stricken,
and heartbroken.

We search for meaning,
for love,
in an unlit room and no light to guide us.

We are striving for the American dream,
but even if we reach it,
we would not know true joy.

We fight the pain with numbness.
In anger we lash out with arrogant fists,
and lustful bodies.

Telling our creator off.
Telling him "We are in control!"
Telling him to intervene.

because we cannot live through
another rejection,
another loss.

With arms bloodied from the glass vase we threw at him
he embraces us with his love.

And as he looks us in our eyes with tears, we caused,
streaming down his face,
we are enveloped in His grace.

We wait for words of anger to pour from his lips
and instead, out falls
undeserved mercy.

Our creator knew we would strive
for worldly glory
and earthly treasure.

He knew we would fight him every step of the way and
he forgave our sins
before we were even a whisper in our mothers hearts.

As we beg him to save us from the next rejection,
we reject him.

We worthless reject the one worth all.

He loves us through our doubts,
our fears,
our anger

because he sees through our worthlessness,
to the hidden worth,
that he created.

As he is strung up on a cross
of our wrongdoings
we scream the unfairness of our circumstance.

As if our pain was a cruel prank he played
and not a result
of our own disobedience.

Our cries of injustice at a
back-of-lot parking space reach the ears
of the man bleeding and bashed for
our lies and selfishness.

He implores his father to forgive us,
knowing we are going to do it again.

That is the beauty of faith:
         A father who loves
         A spirit that guides
         A son that died

for us,
for you,
for me,
even for me.

I wish to lay down my head
     in your lap
          and cry
as you play with my hair
     to feel the love
          and protection you share
your arms are strong
     but your heart is the muscle I need
to feel that I belong
                     am loved
                     am safe
     from my own doubts
                   and fears
              my own hands
I wish to lay down my head
     in your lap
          and cry
as you stroke my hair

I think I lied to you.
               lied to myself.
I said I "used to"
   because it is my wish.
                        but not true yet.
   Every time you sing,
                                           I doubt
the "used to" that I claim.
   Every time you give me that playful smile
                                           I flutter
and the "used to" fades.
                                           I forget
that I "used to".
           Past not present tense.
I build a wall
           with bricks and mortar
                                        created from "used to".
Meant to protect me
                    from your love
for me, as a friend.
           for her, as more.
I want to "used to"
            but I forget that I "used to"
and I start to,
                                           all over again.

I want to be loved by a poet
for his words would wash away sorrow
I'd live a life caressed by metaphors
and kissed by imagery

I want to be loved by a poet
Expressions of love would have me flipping through a dictionary
expanding my knowledge of what means
love

I want to be loved by a poet
to live in a world where eyes and stars
are synonymous
and every spoken line is a riddle of truth

I want to be loved by a realist
for there would be no mystery behind the lines
life would be empty of
guessed meaning

I want to be loved by a realist
to never need to question or decipher what I have
Love expressed in simplicity
and directness

I want to be loved by a realist
for honesty would be what is
spoken
and my life would be grounded

I want to be loved by masculinity
for heroics would be part of
the puzzle
life with bar fights for my honor

I want to be loved by masculinity
to live with knowledge that love
was also safety and strength when there
was trouble

I want to be loved by masculinity
to know that my life could be protected
and strong arms would catch me
when I fall

I want to be loved by an adventurer
with new twists and turns behind every corner
Where love is professed on mountain tops
and in exploration

I want to be loved by an adventurer
for surprises would be grand and
boredom
would never set in

I want to be loved by an adventurer
because life would be new everyday and
the discovery channel would be viewed through
my eyes

I want to be loved
        want
            to be
                              loved

Blindness curses you
and you are unaware.
You believe that your sight
is clear.
You can always see,
you always know,
and yet you stumble
through conversations burdened
by the things I have hidden.
My body tenses at your touch,
my eyes quiver at your words,
and it goes unnoticed.
Unnoticed by you,
who sees everything.
I want to laugh at
your blindness
to the pain and sorrow
that is exhausting me.
You don't see
that our friendship
was holding me together.
You, the king of observation!
You do not see
that as you draw away
I am fading
into nothingness.