How easily we let ourselves believe we can put our faith into anyone, or anything, besides ourselves,
Without fear of falling into the demise we’ve created,
Even though the possibility of opening our hearts is the one thing that can break our walls.
We create barriers to shield ourselves, and our hearts, from crumbling and turning into our mothers, and that sad lady down the street.
The truth is, we are so ******* terrified of the weakness love brings,
That we'd rather suffer alone,
Stay empty, but stay unbroken.
In the solace of our own minds we become a butterfly,
Only we don't know how to fly,
Too scared to take the first leap.
Do we risk shattering everything?
So easily we make excuses and cower instead of fall,
Because our heart is our most guarded possession of all.

Hark, my aching heart.
'Tis the last of its kind who beats fervently
Pounding at seams too rich and too thick
To expand to the beat of my longing
Stitched tight are the lines that divide,
You from me-
Indefinitely.

Recovering hope,
Lost in footsteps traveling.
Going no where soon

There is a religion hiding behind every lustrous kiss
and in the electricity that sparks from your fingertips.
I am coming to believe that every proverb and hymn is inspired by the way you speak passionately about the music that moves you,
Like the way they describe Moses as moving the seas.
I am so astonished by the godly nature that your head holds when you tell me the things I wished I knew about myself.
There is an existential divide between the bliss I knew and the bliss I have found inside your soul that warms me to my core,
There is religion inside the foundations of your rhythm,
Detailed among the gaps in your words and holy prose.
While in your arms I fear not of the damnation waiting for me or the eternal death swooping me down ward,
In your arms all I fear is having to let you go.

To love a ghost trapped behind a gated core-
Is to love a hollow shell and expect nothing more.

Framework narrowing, crumbling, and cracking
While loose leaf lullabies fable my lacking.

Tiresome symphony's play my heart's theme
While love is grown slow, curated behind sheen.

Endlessly flailing for something more sturdy,
But you can't expect grace when you haven't any glory.

We fall apart, yet again, in the light of the day,
But the nighttime is when our ghosts can play.

War-torn love taints our bruised flesh,
Love you can't feel behind the cloud of regret.

The blissful peace of being near you,
The agony of you leaving too soon.

Foolish fish flop farthest,
But foolish fish fry fastest.

"But the Lord called to Adam, where are you?"
Adam turned his back,
There is no one holier than me and the life I am.
My Lord, you are a man with complex much too far indulged by the only people who have ever loved you.
You were a peasant, a pauper, a campesino
Left behind family for the God that left you.
To answer you Lord,
I am tending to my cows, my chickens, my pigs
Waiting for the day you wake up and see,
I was born from nature itself, not the fists of a man
Too arrogant to both love and accept all the brothers and sisters,
You left behind, trying to reinvent yourself.