It’s interesting to me how both of you acknowledge that spot
The location where you supposedly “proposed to [my] dad”

You chose to bring up every detail

While you just note that its location has moved

Every time you come to visit me
Every time we pass by
“That’s the spot where I proposed to your dad!”
“Hey, there’s the blind tiger! It didn’t used to be there.”

And me in the passengers side seat
Relating these comments to the past 14 years of my life

How you tell me about all the times you shared together

And you never say one word about any of it

So maybe that’s why you left
And why you’re holding onto something that isn’t there
Or wasn’t there in the first place

Boys aren't everything
Bodies and ***** and butts and *****
And you're better than that you know
You're more than you give yourself credit for

And all that I see everyday is more and more of you searching viscously for this feeling of nothing
A nothing that makes you feel something
But does it?

“I don't want love”
“I don't want a nice boy”
“I don't want someone to cuddle me at night”
Well then what do you want

How can you feel fulfilled by the empty void of nothing
You can't!
And I know because you keep looking
Why would you keep looking if you weren't searching for something

So maybe you could stop searching for whatever it is you're trying to find
And start capturing the qualities within yourself that are too good for any one night stand
The beauty and brightness and bliss

it's a strange occurrence
hearing sirens pulsate through the rough brick walls of the silent still sanctuary on sunday mornings
every sunday morning for as long as i can remember

the service doesn't stop and the sermon doesn't stop
but i can't help but wonder what would happen if they did
what would happen if we stopped worrying about our lives and started worrying about theirs - those who have been affected by that shrill call
every sunday morning for as long as i can remember

why is it that we receive the honor of being safe inside when there are people suffering outside
how do we say a prayer for healing but go about our daily lives not thinking about what we hear right outside our windows
every sunday morning for as long as i can remember

perhaps some people do let the sound interrupt their routine thoughts
are those the lucky few who are called angels?
it shouldn't be their job to save the world
if we let the warning resonate through our minds and not just through the rough brick walls then maybe sirens wouldn't be heard
every sunday morning for as long as i can remember

is an egg ever left out of the egg carton?
or a red crayon out of a pack of 24?
what about the right-foot-sock or the left-hand-glove?
no

did the husband ever forget about his wife?
well, maybe sometimes
but i would never forget about you

the group of white sheep
and i the black
roaming around aimlessly
searching for friendship
for an invitation into your bountiful pasture
where you graze day after day
and where i stand on the other side of the fence gazing in
wondering if you'll notice me or my efforts
or anything really

do you notice anything other than yourselves?
can you see over your side of the fence?
do you even want to see?

i am the egg
i am the red crayon
i am the right-foot-sock and the left-hand-glove

do you know what happens to things that are lost?
they are eventually found

one day I said to you, "I'm an introvert"
because you didn't understand why I was acting the way I was
and you said, "no you're not"
but I think I would know
and how could you have any idea
you aren't inside of my brain

it's why I was reluctant to take you to concerts
even though I wanted to go too
I couldn't bring myself to it
all the anxiety
all the noise
we could have our own private concert in the comfort of the living room
but that's not what you wanted

it's why on the way home at night in the dark I wanted to enjoy every moment of silence I had with you
every last word in every last song
traveling down the dark road looking up at the stars

you couldn't understand though
all I could think about was you saying, "no you're not"
and then I had to calm you down when you got mad at me for not talking to you
because apparently I "didn't care"
when in all reality sitting in silence in the dark car
with the lyrics
and the stars
and your breath shifting between your lips
meant more to me than a casual conversation ever would

As I look back on times that have long past,
And think about the good times that we shared,
I start to realize why it didn’t last:
Because we only focused on who cared.
It’s hard at first to let the memories go,
Sometimes I want to relive everyday,
But over time they’ll melt like fallen snow,
And happiness will come in different ways.
I’ll take delight in someone else’s glance,
Allowing light to flood into my life.
The butterflies inside me do a dance,
No more I’ll be weighed down by all the strife.
     I cannot wait for what life has in store.
     My heart wide-open; wings outstretched to soar.

you had these white plates
i never knew how one could keep plates that pristine
like they had been dipped in bleach
before and after every use

we used to eat off of those plates
those beautiful ivory discs
it was always spaghetti that we enjoyed together
at least once a week
i couldn't figure out how all that red never once stained the surface
i still don't know

i think your heart was like those white plates
those beautiful, generous, pure plates
that concluded some of the best days of my life
i spooned out my love
but it never once stained the surface

how do i know?

because in the end you were just left
with those white plates
like they had never once been eaten on
with a clean slate for someone else to stain