God, You are my Dwelling Place.

My Rock and my Wings in times of trouble.

You are the Hand that lifts me up when I stumble.

I thank You for Your love and kindness.

I thank You for listening to my voice, my prayers, my cries, and my supplications.

Continue to renew my mind and spirit to conform to your thinking moment by moment.

Every day is a new start.

When my soul is overflowing with anguish, so much so my bones are crushed,

I will look to You to drain it from me.

I will look to You to set my soul free from such an outpouring of grief and fear.

May Your love sustain me; may Your love guide me.

I need Your help, Father.

Thank You for Your unmatched, unfailing, and rescuing love.

Replace me with someone else.

Give away my name.

Put these toils in someone elses hands.

She'll know what will become of me.

Place this body somewhere love has a different meaning;

a separate purpose.

Give away its name.

We'd both have a different meaning and perhaps a simpler relativity.

i lack bravery, it seems.
to tell you what my silence means.
but with this writing i will always be
courageous and open with my feelings.

truth be told,
a light within me stops its beams
from bursting through
every time i think of you with her.

the image lingers and i wonder...
i'm nothing special.

those moments didn't mean anything.
you've been doing it with everyone else.

i'm still at peace, though.
i'm still not as afraid as i used to be.
i thank God i'm not as afraid as i used to be.
that summer. you tore my nerves in pieces.
i was in fear of not being able to tell my legs and my arms a part.
i was sinking. no one cared.
as much as i was hurting and sick,
it was game to those who were well and fair.

i'm stronger now. you won't do me the same.
i will be able to sleep at night and be comfortable with my
pain.

you can build up your ego all you want,
you can flirt with every woman in the room,
but you will not tear my nerves asunder
like you successfully did that summer.
my strength you will not remove.

it is a curse in life
to have a feeling heart;
a heart that feels and carries pain
it is a curse in life to have this feeling heart
whether beautiful or not
it's a curse in life to have a feeling heart.

with beauty comes jealousy
and hatred and betrayal
with ugliness comes taunts
and names and rudeness...
that could only come from hell.

it is a curse to have a feeling heart
what good is it? what good?
to connect with other feeling hearts
to do all we could

One Love,

two love.

three love. fourth?

an overflow of love, do i really need more?

a grateful dullness fills my mind.

my three loves are fine; for now so am i.

I did my crying. Now it’s time to be mature.

I am not yours.

You are not my own.

What price have I paid?

What gives me the right to complain?

I will keep my distance, I won’t put up a fight,

For someone who doesn’t want me;

What isn’t mine.

I will pray for the best,

For you and for me.

Keep her heart safe,

My sister in Christ,

Whoever she is.

Your bride to be.

it's not fair.
i don't know what i did.
i've always given love to you,
even if the kind of love it is
has changed.
so why the foul treatment?

what is the issue?
why are there so many walls between people?
what has happened so that they cannot see a kind face?
or feel a genuine touch?
or hear what really has been said?
or taste the sweetness of a kiss?
or smell the aroma of love?

i can't perceive it.
i can understand it.
i just can't perceive it.

I could’ve sworn I thought I was something…

until you cut me down to a smaller size,

stuffed me in your pocket,

said we’d go for a ride.

it took me by surprise how much smaller i was getting,

as i melted in your pocket and you kept traveling, slowly forgetting.

i laid there in a puddle, absorbing in the fabric.

i don’t think you ever looked inside, never checked what happened.

now i’m stuck between the grooves of whatever this pocket is made of. slightly made it to your skin, as the whole of me did break up. i watch you as you slide me off and throw me in the wash. good thing i made it to your skin in small parts.

as i seep down the layers of your flesh and make it to your blood, i rapidly move throughout your body as your bloodstream would.

and before i make it to your heart, i scream, “is that where i must go?” i hit and as it reverberates i hear your voice go, “oh!”

i’m sorry for my hatred. i’m trying to purge it out of me.

the stuff it burns like a thousand suns inside of the

part that needs to grow most assuredly.

i’m sorry for the way it seems to scorch the parts with meaning

sorry for letting my spirit turn into gasoline.

all i’m hoping is that still remaining after the end of my soul,

after it’s burnt and the ashes fall,

is my faith, of great worth, I’m told…

laying there in the purest form of gold.

I am a woman of God, too.

I have worth and value.

I am more than my black skin. I am more than just a laugh.

I’m not here to be an entertainer.

I want to be a wife. I want to be a mother.

I want to help. I want to be a friend.

I try hard, too. I sacrifice. I love my family.

I read the Word. I do my best.

I want to be who you imagine when you lift up that veil.

I suppose I haven’t been painted into those perfect pictures. I haven’t been the model of beauty.

Why must I be written off? Why am I always the last one picked before the start of the game?

I feel like Charlie Brown.