We need to stop analyzing the past,
stop planning the future,
stop figuring out precisely how we feel,
stop deciding exactly what we want when we want it.
Sometimes, we just need to stop,
and see what happens.
You see, what we learn, and who we become,
in the process of waiting,
is often more important than the thing we were actually waiting for.

“Don't you miss being in love?”, she asks.
I simmer, gathering myself  and my thoughts.

No, I don't, because I have not been in love;
Not in the manner I imagine it.
I have loved - beautifully, might I add -
But never have I been in love.

How can I have?
At my best, all I knew was to compel, persuasively,
someone into loving me -
the best possible way I knew how.
I revealed just enough of myself,
the beautiful of myself,
the parts of me that drew butterflies.

Hidden were the broken parts of me,
those which keep me awake, sleepless -
'til the moon kisses me goodnight,
in the last hours before dawn.

I am not, by any means, denying ever loving.
I have loved, blindly and beautifully.
All I have ever been good at was loving -
loving someone into loving me,
the best way possible.

But, all of their love was inadequate.
A love which always fell short of loving me,
the best way possible.

Love; inadequate:
Unable to express loving me,
unable to express themselves of loving me.

In turn,
I was slapped with sloppy efforts of loving me -
Vague inadequacies of love.
It was never enough, not remotely close,
to what I had imaged loving me would be.
It was short of ever arousing me internally,
short of wits to spiral me into being in love.

And so, how can I miss being in love,
when it has always been a feeling that eluded me?
How can I miss being in love, when in love -
I concealed the broken parts of me?
How can I have been in love when I was lonely, in love?

How can I have been in love,
when all I knew of being in love was to love myself -
by loving whomever loved the aesthetic parts of me?

Loving me has always been an infatuation -
an infatuation of the broken pieces of me,
coming together to create an illusion of a love -
an unsatisfactory love for loving me.

How can I have ever been in love when no one has known,
expressed, conjured the best possible way of loving me.
All of me.

Once more, up at the last hours before dawn -
awaiting the moon to kiss me goodnight, I tell her.

The cello
mother of music
sings peacefully
from the eye of the storm

A peace purchased
at the price of certitude

Piano provides counterpoint
restrained
elegant
its curtains of sound
dream their own dreams

and a longing violin
makes love to
the air itself

We march deliberately
to this tempo
stepping in time
to the sweet
and terrifying strains
of our own mortality

The composer
died
at thirty one years.
Why - how
have I lived so long?

Perhaps
to hear this music as if for
the first time
and so share it
with the sky.

When the most encouraging words fall
from between the lips of those whose friendships are transient
it's pretty **** confusing

When the most hurtful words lash out,
barbs on a tongue from the people who are supposed to love you
you live your world upside down
without even realising

You walk down streets with the signs
written backwards
intentions muddled and hidden from sight

You pace rooms, with windows that stretch
from the ceiling to the floor, doors shorter than a toddler
seeing everything with no way out

Seeing everything that other people have
and you don't
seeing things that could've been so simple
yet too complicated to obtain

Wanting things that aren't yours but could've been

If only everyone put in a little more effort
if only everyone put their pride away
if only everyone could accept that this family
has fallen
a p a r t

and that the time to fix it
has long passed

He told me once he would name our daughter after the places we had been or flowers he picked for me.

He said he would name her Carolina, not Caroline, and he would remember those humid summer nights we spent watching the sunset.

He said he'd name her Daisy, because he knew my favorite was flowers and he would buy her anything she desired to make her as happy as me.

He told me this once, a long time ago, back when we were young and before we really thought about life. Back before I knew what I wanted and *** to react when he said he wanted kids.

I told him I hoped our son has his green eyes and his sandy blonde, but turning darker each year, hair.

I told him I hoped our son had his spark and his sarcastic smile so I could always remember he had the good pieces of his father, the parts I laughed about.

I told him that before things changed, before we both spun out of control and closer to the flames.

Now we sit on opposite sides of the country and we talk to different people about kids and love. And we wonder, where things could have been if we hadn't become so lost in ourselves  for once.

It is for the broken hearted ones that we should seek
for they are the ones whos need is to feel love
and it is for the ones whos soul aches that we should befriend
for they are in need of comfort, giving a safe place to land
and for those that are crushed in spirit we should lift up
for their spirit is bruised and very often lost to them
they are the ones we should find
the weary souls
from among ourselves
our time in this cosmos is fleeting
and what better way to remain forever
than to love


P. Every word is yours x

How fortunate it was to have someone to confide in
Despite the spend of such a short time
Or maybe time just passed too fast when I was falling
Again

What happened those 4 years surfaced again
Am I one of the lucky ones?
Was God warning me not to fall too fast
Right one but wrong time

******* how I wished
Wished you felt the same I did
Where did your word go?
Am I really lucky?

I know you've been drinking more
And I guess it wouldn't be fair if I didn't say
I'm falling apart too
I'm running away from you

Love is who your happiness depends on
And I guess that's true because I haven't smiled in awhile
It's been awhile but I just want to say
I am forever grateful

Sometimes I'll go for walks
long walks
down long roads.

Sometimes I'll have a nap
not a long nap
and just dream.

Sometimes I'll read a book.
a big book
one that takes me weeks.

Sometimes I'll phone a friend
a close friend
one I left behind.

And other times I'll just sit and think
for hours
about you.