When I am around you,
I feel heavy.
Everything that normally bothers me
isn't a concern anymore.
Not that it's not there,
it just softens
a whole lot.
In fact, everything softens
when I am around you.

In time, even blankets can warm
the coldest of beds,
and that's what you are to me;
a blanket so thick,
you just fall into it and sink,
You drape across me.
Your breath filling the air of my ears,
warm, soft
one of the best blankets I've been
wrapped up in my whole life.

After a few minutes, I am asleep
inside you.
My bones, my worries,
everything fades away.
Your warmth, my everything

There are many clothes in the world
that you can try on today
be it designer brand name or not,
that can fit on a clothing rack.
Just because something is made
doesn’t mean that you must fit it,
or the expectation of wearing it.

Not everything is going to fit.
Not everything is going to be your size,
including emotions.

Nothing good comes from waiting
for someone else’s approval.
If someone sees you,
let them see you for the remarkable
beauty that you are.


No matter if you mix and match,
or if you have on the full set.
Even if you see someone wearing
their emotions, and it’s the type of person
you want to be,
there is nothing wrong with trying something on.
But don’t get mad if it doesn’t fit.
It may not be the right time for you right now.

There is power in letting go.
There is also power in walking away.
There is no need to pretend that you’re less than
trying to keep up with a trend.
There is a lot of power in letting go,
and finding all the beautiful things
that you were meant to be

She unravels herself like a rose  
In the palm of my hand.  
Some of her petals break off  
And lay to the side
The pain of growth,  
Making room for something new.  

She looks me in the eye,  
The tension of letting go  
Of reasonable fear.  
Too many lonely nights.  
The crescent moon of every lie  
Hovers over her head.  

Piece by piece,  
She's laid that insecurity in my hands,  
That uncertainty in her eyes,  
Slowly turning into trust.  
Seeing that I didn’t discard  
The pieces of her that flaked off,  
In my hands.  
Regardless of how bad they look,  
They are a part of her.  

She twists and she turns,  
Her thorns piercing my skin,  
One after another.  
With confidence, I don’t have to tell her  
That I am not afraid.  
But I do so anyway.  

The crescent moon that hangs  
Above her head fills out  
And becomes full.  
As comfortable as she seems,  
Fear still lingers.  
No matter how much she  
Lets go,  
She's been let down before.  

In time, my hands will become  
A vase that will protect her from harm,  
And my heart a place  
That will warm her always.  
When the day comes she knows,  
With certainty, that I am not afraid,  
I will still tell her
I am not afraid

There’s a girl I know on Mars
Who wears tube socks
With everything she wears,
No matter if they’re stretched out or not.
There, the wind barely blows,
It barely even whistles.
But she doesn’t like her feet
To get cold.

Every time we talk,
We talk about everything
And nothing.
She sits at home and watches
The stars from her window,
Swinging one of her legs
From the arm of the couch.

I told her that I’d mail her a new
Pair of socks if I could find
A pair with Mars on them,
And a pair that had the moon
Printed on them.
Especially that far out, I bet they’re
Hard to find.

Maybe I’d settle for a pair myself,
To see what she sees in these things,
After all, she always wears them.
Maybe I’ll get her a pair that stretches
To her knees,
A solid color to match her couch,
To hide the red dirt that creeps
In her house.

After all, we’re human.
We need something that connects us
To who we are, who we used to be.
Anything to make us feel
More important than what we are

The ground shook beneath us,
Running beside the horse in her heart.
My feet, her hooves pressed deep
In her orifice.
Panting, our arms free in the wind,
Her eyes wild to those who try to tame her.
My stomach burns from the ache
Of trying to keep up.
I haven’t run this long or this hard
Since I was little.
No matter what I did,
She was always in front of me.
If I laughed, she’d neigh and bite the air.
Even if I was able to pass her,
It wasn’t long before she got back
In front of me.
Every part of me hurts, but all I can do
Is laugh, trying to keep up.
After a while, I fell out,
Sprawled out, catching my breath.
Soon, she walked over and laid down beside me
And licked my face.

Life’s too short to worry about
The bruises that travel up your legs.
It’s rare that you meet people
Who make you burn like this
The kind of love that pounds
And gallops.
She had a horse in her heart,
Wild and made of fire.
She didn’t want to escape,
Just needed a friend

I don't like the crumbs,  
But I eat them anyway.  
I eat them like they're whole,  
As they are the best part to me.
They are always there.
Like a man who's instead  
Learned to fish
There's more
to be had,  
Saving the rest for later.

I take slow, small, deliberate
bites,  
Like a goldfish,  
Mostly inhaling water,  
Saving the bigger pieces
for you.

Although they're all mine,  
They taste better, knowing  
That I've shared them with you.  
No matter how far these crumbs  
Drift apart,  
Whether you eat them fast  
Or you eat them slow,  
There will always be something left  
To swim around
in your stomach.

I am afraid to close my eyes  
And miss the moment you  
Savor it all.  
I could tell you that I've saved  
The best part
for you,  
Knowing that it's all I have to give.  
My hands are only so big

Like an old lover,
I press my lips on the mouthpiece,
And I blow.
I blow until my lungs are about give out.
I blow until the beads of stardust twinkle.
The air tastes like rust.
Still, I play.
I may not have learned all the notes
On this blue saxophone,
But still, I play what sounds good to me.
The air rolls over me like a dream
One I didn’t have the good sense to
stay asleep and finish.

The red dust longs
For thicker air,
Burning with everything that it knows
The taste of its name,
The hunger of its touch,
The pull of something stronger
Than us both.
If silence comes from a mouth,
It is still felt, regardless of whether
It has arms.
Mars, a girl that history got wrong,
wisps through the red dust.
Whether I stay here on Mars,
Return to Earth, or go somewhere different,
You never forget the way breath
Feels against your skin.
Never.

I continue to press my lips on
The mouthpiece,
I blow until my lungs are about give out.
I play what sounds good to me,
Whether it’s old or new.
Love is still love,
No matter how cold it gets