as i finally swim back up
from holding
my breath underwater
for so long,

i say goodbye
to
regret,
sadness,
pain,
and suffering.

i feel the sun’s
warm kiss upon my
cold, soaked up skin.

as i breathe my first air
after a long time,

i say hello
to
beginnings,
happiness,
healing,

and the beauty
of life.

I'm homesick for a place to which I cannot return
a home that maybe was never mine for the taking,

A home where I once was my most authentic self
it was a home like no other

A salvation,

My heart is restless for home I once called love.

-A

it's snowing in april and
the bluejays have abandoned their nest to
welcome the newcoming of spring;
we have no furniture, sweetheart,
but we do have time. last night i
held your cheek in my tiny palm and
asked if you wanted me to rest
in your arms forever -
"of course", you soothed,
and i brewed cherry coffee in the morningtime
to remind myself
that this life is good.
we have no money, sweetheart,
but we do have time. we do have time.

I have a true story. Unbelievable, but true.
You have one too.
This too is true.
It's so unbelievable I can't tell you,
As you cannot tell me.
I think mine more far-fetched,
And you think the same of yours.
You wouldn't believe me,
I won't believe yours,
Even though yours is probably more believable.

It's a secret, but not a secret,
Because I want to but won't tell it...
Because who'd believe it.
They'd sooner believe in voodoo... not true.
Why tell a truth none believe.
It has a dangerous intrinsic result.
What personal good is found
In crosses, nooses and needles.
There's truth there, but refutable truth.
Unbelievable truth.
There's the sticking point.

I'm scared.
I'm silent.

It helps me understand broken hearts and crushed spirits.
The lonely, hungry lost stories of the unfathomable.
Believe me. Don't believe me.
The result's the same.

Legends, myths, folklore tales grow
Because the whole truth went untold,
And mixed with a partial lie,
Becomes our reality.

So, I'm reticent to share mine.
I'm open to hearing yours,
If it's what you say it is.
But I doubt it.

She was like your first breath of air after coming up from underwater, and now I'm drowning.

Is it not truly dissapointing to watch
someone fail to live up to what you know
they are capable of?
Someone with such potential but they don't use it.

There was a pupil, and this pupil wanted to do something
everyone told him he'd fail at.
But he did it anyway, and for a brief while he felt as if he was home.
As if he had finally found life and his part in it.

He was told that he had talent, that he stood out from the rest.
Someone he greatly admired said this to him infront of his fellow pupils. He was happy.
His purpose felt firmly established.

Months later the pupil fell into a darl place, slowly losing his love
for what he thought he loved.
Lost in a world he thought he figured out, walking through a dark tunnel, looking for a place to sit rather than an exit.

He looked back on what was told to him, that he had talent.
That he was special... he realised something.
Just because someone doesn't fit in, does not mean they
special.

The pupil sat writing about his feelings, and a lite spark came back,
a spark no larger than the first morning light.
Realising what he loved will be there for him,
however he can't be there for it as not to ruin it.