Your lips were made for Hallelujahs.
Nothing less will do them justice,
and nothing more exists.

When granted the joy of life's creation,
their Maker sang into the heavens
and choreographed their dance.

The breath that passes between their mountains
carries with it the secret signature
of death-defeating hands.

Your lips were made to form sweet praises
with all the spirit and humbled passions
your heart and soul enlist.

I'm usually one to count my steps
To shy away & question
My skepticism keeps me safe I suppose
I rely on my intuition,
& my discretion

But then you come
You sweep me off of my feet
You look at me with these soft sweet eyes
And my heart skips beats
and it trips
and it summersaults
And i look into your pretty, pretty eyes and I fall each time I swear I do

So I put my guard down
I allow vulnerability to become me
I share with you things about me
Things I hesitate to share
And this vulnerability grows
It creates a nagging monster of fear that drowns me with negative thoughts
And I fight it but it wins
I'm left defeated, tired, and distraught

This gap grows between us
And I feel you so distant
as if you're a stranger, a bystander on the street
That travels past me just like the short breath of an instant
Who's rhythmic steps don't match my wandering feet

It breaks me into a million minuscule little glass pieces.
Because I feared that I would fall and break.
I'm just a girl with glass bones and paper skin.
You weren't there to catch me.
You aren't here to ease this ache.

the problem is that none of
them are you; i don't know if
that's how love works, or if
this is just fear

Morning light comes crashing through the
windows of my terribly mundane room,
the same place I wake day after day. Dust has settled
on the picture frames week after week and leaves
a pall of sadness over the bookshelves.

Misery isn’t always some place we speak of
so distantly, as if waking up here wasn’t akin to
tearing off a scab and rubbing salt and sand
into the wound. My first thought of the day was
a wish, that love could be more than
just a blank page staring back.

The first sip of hot coffee reminds me of the
velvety words that always fell from your mouth. I’m
wishing that I was in another place or knew
another language, like the one I already know
somehow isn’t good enough for writing you poems.

I’m snapped out of my nostalgic mind
by the neighborhood children playing on the street.
Their screams echo down these barren halls; I wish
I could be five and full of pure joy while
learning the world all over again. But I have aged
and my innocence was lost so many years ago.

Everything I had tried to write you was full of guilt
and sadness and missing my genuine joy. Before I had to
picture my mother in a casket. Before I knew you’d leave
for someone who could fake happiness better
than I ever could. Before I lost that last bit of naïve light.

I’ll be searching for the beauty I once held inside.
Today my thoughts are shrouded in what was better
about yesterday. There is no use in counting money and
moments already spent. Maybe for a day I’ll forget you and
force myself to write freely and be childlike. I won’t try to
quantify beautiful, writable moments of everyday life.

Maybe today I’ll actually let myself write.

If you look back can you remember
Can you remember what it was like
When you looked out over the ocean
And it looked like more than a compilation of questions
Can you remember when we could see past the horizon
And the air in our lungs tasted fresh
Can you remember when promises were like death sentences
When secrets were ties stronger than blood
If this is growing up I’ll keep holding my breath
Can you remember when guardian angels
Were nothing more than a nightlight
And the sound of the tv downstairs
Can you remember when it started to rain
But we didn’t associate it with dreams covering 654 miles
It was the key to the closet where we hid happiness
Can you remember what its like to measure time in minutes
And not in paychecks or homework assignments
Can you remember the exact moment when we lost ourselves
Living our lives to satisfy people we’ll never meet
*~W.C.