i'd like to suggest a new lesson
for kids to learn to write
about heartbreak;
and how to navigate the waters
and chop down the saplings that grew from the
precious seeds of promises
that we planted in the warm dirt
that stained our shirts

and a chapter about hurt
about how it's coming
but it's ok
cause there was never a question about how much he loved you
it's just that we were too young to hold up our expectations
and too blind to see the faults
that cracked open to reveal our cowardice
that we filled in with volume, growing louder with every tremor

i didn't mean to tie you down
but my hair is so long that sometimes even I get caught up in it
I want to write you a chapter of apologies in any language you can understand
I'll bind it with maturity and print it on parchment so you know that it is not to be taken lightly

the heirarchy of words is so hard to uncover
I know that my blunders are what you heard
and my heart is what you missed

i hear the pitter patter of the rain over head
and it's filling up the silence left by words unsaid
and i never wanna get dry
cause even bruised legs are beautiful underwater
and the wrinkles make my skin too soft to leave a bad impression

i will not be afraid of the thunder
i know that if i listen hard enough it will drown out the
sound of your exit
which was not at all eloquent
and we made a mess of it,
didn't we?

i wrote your promises on the bottom of my shoes
in the hopes that they would be imprinted on my sole.


if God took the time to carve the stars out in your eyes
and sew the spaces in my heart
I should've learned that greed isn't love,
but i couldn't get enough.
i know that no one wants a lifetime before
they've had the time to live
i'd climb back up to heaven if your stars were mine to give

and i've never been much for throwing anything away
but if you see a shooting star you'll know it was me;
and my apology
from a hundred miles away.

the truth is, i'm accountable for half of the tears
that make up the ocean of anyone's heart break.

i'm wishing i could call you to my sleep
i'm wishing i could get used to sleeping

but i can't stop thinking how if God gave me a basket
of all the eyes he's ever made
i would have yours in my pocket in a second.
because they would be better off there than in my heart;
and i wouldn't be so jealous of whoever gets to call them hers

summer monsoons and spring showers
aren't the same as this kind of downpour
i will weather this storm in the name of
lessons learned

when bridges burn,
even the angels hold their breath

I know I'm young; but that it doesn't make me brave.
I know magic is real.
and the only thing I have to do is die...but I am not afraid.

You see, I hear dead soprano's stories coursing through my veins and I know
the day I join them they will say "thank you, sister, for singing"
and I will say "thank you, sisters, for being!"
and we will choose the next little girl with wild in her mane
who is searching for her voice just to speak her name.

I know mine is plain and that my words may never be as eloquent as my day dreams
but I'll never stop telling the stars how beautiful they are as if they've never heard it before.
I know that the longest nights come after the days that are too fast
and that's about it.