i've been praying to god
even though i question  his existence
but i need something
      someone
to call upon
   sometimes
i had avoided him for a long time
refused to acknowledge
any truth in the
                actuality of a god

        and i am still skeptical

but there is a comfort
in feeling a bit spiritual

and it is nice knowing
that there may be someone
        something
that's watching out for me

even if it is myself.

his eyes were a ****** brown
like a million other eyes
                      before him
he was of average height
                  weight
slight bump on his nose
lopsided grin
would go unnoticed in a crowd

but when he opened his mouth

             wow

hearts melted
the populace swooned

and all his arsenal consisted of
was clever conversation.

such a sad, lost girl
holding tightly
onto what she feels
                     to be love.

      giving
                       giving
     giving

then silently waiting
                to take
but nothing is offered to her

so she's left
looking into an empty glass
that once held tears
     sprung forth
from a much damaged soul
                 and an even deeper
damaged heart.

so lost
        so fearful

     not realizing that what she seeks
is buried deep within
                               herself.

i find no honesty
    in a toothy grin
...no satisfaction
     in a winking eye
your words of worship
       nonsense
the flattery you toss
      ridiculous
your praise
           empty
your claim of undying love
           worthless

the day i see truthfulness in your stare
              feel true compassion within your arms
    then
               and only then
will i welcome you
into my untainted
                          embrace.

I see how white light startles.
I snapped a pic and she spun in circles.
She wanted a photograph
to cover her mother's epitaph,
so she could have a laugh.

She smoked to get away -
but this isn't what'd she say,
exhaling, "All we are is carbon
and a lack of empathy."

We blended into hues of
microwave dinners
and church alters.
I used to tell her to go
just to halt her.

We prayed to get away -
but that's not what we'd say,
whispering, "Help us be more
than carbon and a lack of empathy."

I worry about everything, baby
I'm a
    writer - a poet
    passion begets anxiety
it's my job  hell
I even worry about
        my worrying
my stress is recursive
mere moments only can I
    break the loop
      forget to worry
        and smile
usually it's when I'm
    with you

Our lives are just like books
Filled with numerous chapters
We may not like what’s inside
But turning the page and
Continuing the story
Is the only way to move on