Your eyes. I think it started with your eyes. It was unexpected, like most things in this life are, but it was definite. That moment. The back of a warm car on a cold winter day. Your head resting sleepily in my lap and the tired January sun peeking through the fog of afternoon clouds, illuminating that small corner of our universe. My fingers ran through your hair like muscle memory as if I'd been doing that with you every day for years. You tilt your head up to look at me and that's when it was. That's when it happened. I've never fallen in love with someone's eyes before. Having met you makes me wonder if I've ever really fallen in love with anyone else at all. And I haven't written in months, because part of you still feels like a dream. A random phone call waking me up from a nap, an email when we haven't spoken in weeks, a nine hour car ride to be in your arms again. So many things separate us but none of these things matter in the grand scheme of me loving you relentlessly. I've said it before and I will say it again, again and again; it's you. Have you ever loved someone more than you know how to? I swear, it started with your eyes.

-to be human is to sin

you tell me that good people are everywhere
but where are all these good people
when the facts are screaming
"emergency, emergency"
"alert, alert"
when the facts say
that almost every ******* this planet
has at least once in her life
been touched in a way she didn't consent to
the facts say that most ****** predators
are known to the children
fathers;
fathers have ***** their daughters
while mothers cry silently
because the world does not want to hear
the stories under the blanket
the guilt and the shame
the pain.
the pain.

you say there are good people
show me
show me
that boy who gives to charity
his hand rode up my skirt last week
that girl who prays five times a day
she watched as her boyfriend called me a *****

my five year old cousin knows what it's like to be penetrated

i lost my virginity before i got my period

my best friend doesn't want to be touched because she sees her ******'s face in every man

i was blackmailed by a boy who said he wanted to marry me

my mom;
my mom and i have bonded over
what it feels like
to have
a man inside you
who doesn't
doesn't
belong there

what kind of god wants an empty heaven?
because the kind of people on this earth
the filthy **** who carved their names between my thighs
there are too many
there are too many
men who have done
women who have watched
silent observers
silent thieves
murderers
no one says anything
then they pray to god
but their sins
their sins are on my skin
see me
see me as i burn
see me as i burn
because if these repenters
who have lived their lives
hurting others
who say their grace
then stuff their ***** in my face
if these repenters
are who i will find in heaven
then i do not want to go
i do not want to go
to a heaven with them
i do not want to go
to a paradise
that looks a whole lot like hell

but if god
chooses to not forgive these repenters
then heaven will be empty
because we are sinners
we are all sinners
we ask for forgiveness
then do it again

i have lied
i have cheated
i have wished ill upon another

tell me; am i good person?
was he a good person?
when he ***** me then apologized
when he ***** me then prayed
when he ***** me then cried
and said he made a mistake

when he ***** me
said sorry
and did it again.

if he makes it to heaven
i'll take the other train
if he does not
then none of us will
because our devils are too clean
and our angels too *****

i'm not quite sure if i'm looking for repentance or for revenge
i have done wrong and i have been wronged
is there a place for me in heaven?

what kind of god wants an empty heaven?
what kind of god wants a heaven full of sinners?

where is the god that will love me?

where is the god that will forgive me?

you were gods cold hands
and i was the tide,

you pushed me back and forth
until i broke.

forward thinking
peach tea
always the one who hates to leave

hesitant lover
cuffed sleeves
organizes in color schemes

late night worker
christmas eve
lover of all velvet things

advid artist
blushing pink
seems to always be misperceived
-i.w.