What are the odds of finding someone -
who can finish your sentences -
who will let you cut in line -
who knows not to just lend a hand, or an ear when you need them to give you their spine -
who will keep every secret, save every letter, tell you how you really look
who will remember every single one of your birthdays -
without checking Facebook?
What are the odds of finding someone who knows your poetry by heart ?
I will always see you for the alley-oop.
I will always save you a seat.
I will always pick you to be my partner even though you are terrible at handball.
When the fire takes all you have, my home will be your home.
When you are old and can no longer remember my face, I will meet you for the first time again and again.
When they make fun of your accent, I will take you swimming because we all sound the same underwater.
When Ellis Island tries to erase your past, I will call you by your real name.
When they call your number for the draft, I will enlist to fight beside you.
And I will march with you from Selma to Montgomery and back as many times as it takes.
We will stand together against the horses and the dogs -
They could tell you how rare this is.
But they could tell you how rare this always is.
The chances are slim.
The cards are always stacked against you, the odds are always low.
But I have seen the best of you, and the worst of you, and I choose both.
I want to share every single one of your sunshines and save some for later.
I will tuck them into my pockets so I can give them back to you when the rains fall hard.
Love-
I want to be the mirror that reminds you to love yourself.
I want to be air in your lungs that reminds you to breathe easy.
When the walls come down -
when the thunder rumbles -
when nobody else is home, hold my hand -
and I promise -
I won't let go.

A puzzle piece doesn't fit
into a place that isn't theirs

So stop
Trying to fit
Into places you don't
Belong
Stop
Trying to squeeze
Into spaces you don't
Fit in
Stop
Altering yourself;
Cutting,
Trimming,
The pieces that make
You
Just to fit into skin
That isn't
Yours

Because no matter how hard you try

A puzzle piece never fits
into a place that isn't theirs

Believe me,
I've tried

I gave you the key to the garden where my secrets were safely kept,
And I showed you the flowers sown by my scars, my mistakes, and the corners where they were neatly swept.
But under the stars, you came in and trampled it all while I peacefully slept.
You had planned this all along, I'd consider it a successful attempt.

I awoke to the gate barely swinging on its hinges,
Horrified of what I would discover next, every muscle in my body cringes.
You've created a fire in me, destroying the trails, the fresh air, it singes.
The bright colors of my flowers, the flames, it tinges.

Realizing what you had done, my hopes began to sink.
All the lies you whispered to me, I wasn't sure what to think.
I should have seen this coming, the puzzle pieces began to link.
So I grabbed a piece of paper,
Using my heart as the ink.

I painted my mistakes as a precaution for the world to see,
Lines, details, colors brushed with my regrets, each stroke, showing them what they didn't want to be.
Seeing the finished picture, I knew I had found the purpose meant for me,

*To make a beautiful work of art, using the power of broken poetry.

A girl of only seventeen,
who knew you could make
so many mistakes.
Was it that long ago?
Your dress was always white
and you could sleep without
worrying or waking yourself
from muttering "no, no, no,
I don't know this person
I've become."
What have you done?
You crashed your car for the second time,
careless/stupid/thoughtless/daft.
When's the last time you didn't make
your mother mad?
You loved too many boys
you didn't know
because falling into bed
is easier than getting up again.
You smoke like a new bad habit
and your best friend's a
soon-to-be addict;
you said you knew you had sinned
and yet you still refused to repent.
The verdict is in: it seems
the world would be a better place if
you weren't in it.