that night we laid awake
staring at the dark ceiling above
sleep didn’t come
and we didn’t want
to miss a single moment of this
talking and kissing
for so long we were sober again
for so long the sun came up
a loud Saturday night
carried into a quiet Sunday morning

The most beautiful art was created by pain. It is our most vulnerable moments we are most susceptible to brilliancy. While you're in pain to the point it is unbearable, make art. Your agony will show between brush strokes and diction of your poetry. The hurt you've felt will sculpt beneath your touch. Pain is beautiful because it is the center of humanity. Without pain we couldn't understand happiness.

If I can swim in two feet of water
then I can swim in ninety
This depth won’t drown me
My legs are strong
but my mind is stronger

I’m fine
I’ll say no
but you look
like a piece of cake
so easy to just want a taste
but it’s never just a bite
it’s always a little
bit more

Jealousy and loneliness go hand in hand in some ways. You begin to fall to the outside whether those around you intentionally push you away or they fade away like waves in the ocean. But sometime or another you reside on an island alone. Which is tranquil, but lonely. The loneliness begins to nip at you as the cold night as arrives. You see the lights in the distance. You are so isolated, separated by a chasm of darkness and cold water. No bridge could ever reconnect that that has been broken. Do you dare swim? Do they want you back?

Oh no my darling
I want to wipe those tears
I want to dry your eyes
I want to kiss away the pain
Hug you tight
until your brokenness is no longer
but I cannot
You are out of reach
This hurts more than you'll ever know

You pluck at my heart like strings and make music of love.

I don't need you to fix anything
I just want you to listen
and to know I'm not alone
To feel your arms around me
I just want you to be there
That is enough

I realized your love is to me,
as sunshine is to the earth:
making flowers grow,
revealing vivid color,
fighting out the darkness
and making this life purposeful

Some friends have such a connection
that our souls touch when we talk
Some friends feel more like family
than any family we've ever known

Words tumble
out of your wide mouth
but your eyes
tell a different story

My poems tend to be
short and sweet
or long and depressing.
Not sure if this describes
my writing style
or my mind.

I used to wonder what they
thought of me
Now I wonder what I
think of myself

My heart aches for my mother
She has given herself
Over and over again
To her children
To a husband
To be disregarded
Expected to be more than she is
Asked to work a full time job
Tend to a house and children
While a man sits on the couch
Barking and barking
Do this, do that
Living a double standard
I want more for my mother
I want her to feel empowered
My heart aches for her