No one can know your pain
Not nearly as well as yourself
But the rope won't take it away
It just gives it to someone else

"She was an
unusual dresser.
Every night,
she wore bruises
on her heart,
love on her lips,
pain in her eyes,
and ink on her fingers.
They called her poetry."

(read forward, then backward, line by line)

I ran.
Not knowing what else to do
There was so much blood on my hands
It was mine
The kitchen knife
Caught in my chest
Guilt
Consumed by
Fear
I was heightened by
Adrenaline
But running on
Wasn’t enough
While trying to stay calm,
Losing control
It was me that would end up
Dead. Because
He was
In front of me
The whole time
It was too late
Trapped
I found myself
Locked in chains
My fate was
Death.

"You touched my fingertips.
I felt it. My heart skipped a beat.
Taking hold of my hand. It stopped.
The high school child in me embraced
the playtime once again.
Sitting on a park bench thinking of our bleachers
at the Friday night football games.
Now we cheer for the pigeons as they fight
for the bread crumbs.
It's all so beautiful, only different times.
We are here still together, that's all that really
matters.
Beautiful to reminisce, grateful that
we can.
To kiss each others lips, and start our hearts
pumping once again."

In a field
Turn round and around
Until the sky becomes the earth
Until the wind becomes
The motion to carry a thought
Until love moves at the speed of sound and rests upon a star
And falls on solid ground
With a blanket of the heaven to break its fall

You told me you
              Couldn't find your way
                                     In your darkest nights
So I left you a star
               A star in every poem
                               To find your way home