"Who are you?" I ask aloud.
"There should only be one, but I can see two."

"Who am I?" You repeated my question.
"I'm the one who can never leave your side."

"If your here to stay," I sigh and sit.
"You might as well help me through this day."

"That's not what I do," You laughed and jumped.
"My job is to set up obstacles to drag you through."

"What's the point?" I tilted my head.
"We are one of the same, connected at the joint."

"No, we aren't." You rolled your eyes.
"I'm the one preventing you from trying anything new."

We should run from the wolf,
But Red Riding Hood didn't;
She cut through its forest,
Like bait in its trap,
Presumed it to be
The wolf that it's not.
We fight them, tame them,
Blame and shame them;
We'll throw others in front of them
To save our own skins.
Its golden yellow eyes
Invite you to binge.
You know it's a wolf,
Yet knowingly walk in.
Whitt-whoo, the wolf whistled,
And the lamb stroked its chin.
A fox sent her candy,
But when it was handy
She cried, Wolf!
For that's what it is:
A wolf in sheep's clothing,
Or a ram that's been dissed?

My mother has sewn silver linings into every sky
Hands weary with the weight of the world
And I realize I have always seen Atlas when I stare into her wisened eyes

Is it strength knowing only struggle?
Is it sorrow to be bone tired in a graveyard of all the butterflies you never set free?

How do we save the ones who never ask?
How do we save the ones who cannot save themselves?

I have watched every stitch across a starless night
Every regret and dark thought displayed before  me
Like a pool of shadows

Atlas spent eternity with the world chained to his shoulders
Sometimes I wonder if the forgotten gods come again in the hearts of the lost

Love scares me.
I like the type of things that are concrete,
like the ocean.
Something you could point to
and know what it was.

But you can’t touch love.
You can’t hold onto it
and make sure it never changes.

An act of withdrawal; isolation
Seclusion and sequestration.
Remote from society;
Solitariness, and privacy
Loneliness; despite not being lonely
Or simply,
You.

Your heart isn't a home for every person who seeks shelter.
Your heart isn't a piece of paper where people can sign off without saying goodbye.
Your heart isn't supposed to heal their wounds every time.
Your heart isn't a beautiful painting where people can trace it's different strokes
Please remember that your heart isn't a home for every person that knocks at your door.
Don't let them tamper with the love that you harbor.
Your heart is not made of gold. But it is full of kindness.
Your heart is not a home with a welcome mat spread right outside.
Your heart isn't a yard sale where people can trade emotions whenever they feel like.
Your heart is naive like a kid and it does not realize what is wrong and what is right.
Your heart is not a home for the person who leaves their footprints on the ground and vanishes right out of sight.