Love
kissed
her
cracked
and
bleeding
lips.

I am stuck between too many
Or not enough words.
I just want to say
something that
matters.

I do not classify myself as a Becca or Becky because the ‘Re’ is important.

The prefix meaning ‘again’ motivates me when I fail to keep trying again.

Failing *****, but growing from mistakes is a beautiful process that I come by often.

Boogery Kisses.
An unlikely
pair of words.

But sounds
Like something
Unconditionally intimate.

Something only
Sick lovers
Would understand.

In a long Victorian styled dress little Connie waltzes from person to person hugging their waists.  She gives me a lingering squeeze with her porcelain colored arms. The crookedness of her teeth does not stop her from flashing a smile with every embrace. She is such a loving spirit for a third grade homeschooler.  A fountain of youth is in her blue eyes and I hope for the sake of the world that growing up will never remove her wild joy.

I searched your face for words
as you drummed softly on my knee.
Poetry hidden within your pores.
paints through my mind a melody.

A kiss in the darkness to a new year.
I close my eyes and listen to the beat.
Vibrating colors I see, feel or do I hear?
Inspires me - create something for the Lord:

To see, feel, hear, taste and smell so clear
I give thanks for the way Jesus restores
with blessings, lessons, senses and love so near
Heavenly rewards I will never afford.

your silhouette is a scene of Christ’s creativity.
Those rhythms show sensations that He’s in motion  
your heart-beat sounds of His life giving power.
your lips taste like the sweetness of answered prayers.

I smell His provisions and it is quiet for a moment.
...You're just a man...
But, you make me want to love God more fiercely.
Feelings are fickle compared to Christ, so consistent.

He’s the reasons we’re here, like this.
We may run off time.
He will be the reason when we’re gone.
OH dear, I may run out of sense and rhymes.

His love will remain.

I cannot eat and I cannot sleep anymore
because Your Great Love has been
knocking down my doors.
God, I am filthy, but you make me clean
You've had great plans for me
before I even became a little bean.
Growing up brings some bitter pains,
You wash it away with your healing rain.
My timid soul is thirsty and starving.
Shape me Lord, into your perfect carving.