snuggle in,
and find delight,
in midnight snacks
and cozy bedding.
let the happiness
fill you with warmth.
you are okay, for now.

the coldness creeps in...
i remember you, old friend.
the sadness is back to haunt me,
like a raven, forever perched
on my shoulder.

you are the warmth when
the sun overcasts the sky
and i will for rain

**** it.
poetry isn't for you,
it isn't for anyone.
why show the world
your wounds?
keep it all wrapped up
under a knit blanket, i suppose.
fight your demons alone;
a war in your own mind.
don't let anyone see
the scars, not on your wrist,
but in your thoughts.
stay silent, stay quiet.
maybe you'll get through it.
hide it inside, hidden
by fake smiles and fake friends.
move on with your music
and a whole new reality.
the world is a dangerous place;
people don't understand
and people don't know.
don't show your marks,
pull down your sleeves.

no,
poetry isn't for anyone.

home is where the heart is
and my heart lies in the mountains,
with nights of hot cocoa and campfires;
with the soaring trees, bad cameras.
and in the center of it all, laughter and midnight games.
the dresses, the stars, the countless walks. . .
my heart belongs to those in the beds next to mine,
and in the eyes of him. loud songs and braided hair make me smile.
and yes, my heart is with you.