i am terrified
to spill my guts
because oceans will pour out
and i am afraid
you won't know what to do with the storm
and i will only drown you

s.s

The Wall I have built
Around my Heart
Is neither Tall
Nor very Wide
But it is Sturdy
Propped up by my Doubts
And Insecurities
And Strengthened
By my Rationalizations
Of why No One
Would ever Love me

*someone, anyone,
Break It Down!

Your words
wreck,
destroy,
maim,
abuse,
wound,
and mortify me,
yet they are
the only
thing that
could possibly
save me.

i seat it in the back row
and i try not to stare
but i know that it's there

i'll blame it on the front row
when i don't even care
but i know that it's there

it's creeping in the back row
and i try not to share
but i know that it's there

i guess it's just who we are
i guess i'm worse for ware
and i know that it's here

it takes a seat in the front row
and i can't help but to stare
because i know that it's there

But the words still come
Old and rusted
New and glinting
Weapons in an endless battle with myself
When will I run out of words to write

Lovely colors
are dripping
from the
vivid black
canvas.

My poems of love are usually sad.
Let's see how this one goes.
Love is love, it's a simple sentence.
Three words.
But for the world it's a difficult thing to comprehend.
I've been fortunate enough to have a family that understands but somewhere else in the world there's a place where no one does.
People are being rounded up, and killed like roaches in an infestation.
Shoved off roofs, shot in the streets and for what.
For loving just a little different.
For living as themselves.
My heart is heavy.
My mind unsteady.
Thinking of how my family would act if one day I came home for christmas with another man on my arm.
He'd be welcomed and greeted with the kindest of hearts.
Because here love is love.
And I wish the world could love like this.