two words.
two syllables.
two people madly in love.

twenty fingers.
twenty toes.
twenty thoughts racing through her mind.

two legs.
two arms.
two hearts beating in unison.

this is the story of a love
so strong and pure.

she loved to smile,
but didn't get to often.

he loved to laugh,
but no one told a joke.

together, a perfect unity.
apart, a perfect tragedy.

forever sometimes falls
a tad short.
forever sometimes gives
false hope.

forever is a long, long time.
but its fine,
ill spend it all with you , she said.

he uttered a few words,
lets just be happy right now,
no rush.

she gave him everything
and he took out the trash
when he was done.

she was alone.
and he had put her there.

his guilt was nonexistent
and her misery was apparent.

this was not the boy from the start,
it was a troubled soul
and all he wanted was a notch.

she was close to death,
emotionally,
physically, she was scarred.

he found her and asked her name.
he loved her and gave a ring.

three years.
three words.
three syllables.

i love you.

you saved me.
xoxoxox

Today I am tornado
Tomorrow I am storm
Today I am destruction
Tomorrow Phoenix born
Today I am the fire
So from ashes rise
Today I am the truth
Tomorrow never lies

Today you are my never
Tomorrow you're today
Today I give you nothing for
Tomorrow to take away
Today you are the beauty
Tomorrow well who knows
But still you tend the garden
Where all tomorrows grow

Today I fight my demons
In my way which might be slow
So tomorrow can be freed of
All today's incipient woes 
I hack Today's full veins
And fill tomorrow's cup
So I may plant tomorrow's morning
And watch the day grow up

Tomorrow there is darkness
That started here today
And all because tomorrow's 
Are just too far away
And so I sit and think of
How to best disrupt the norm
And so
Today I am tornado
So tomorrows just a storm

Insignificance is a relative term
The pessimistic thoughts that pass through our heads…
The thoughts that say:
We are not good enough,
We do not matter,
We are insignificant
These are all just thoughts
Controlled by you
A person,
Who can make choices and decisions,
And although you may not be able to change the world as a whole
You can change those insignificant little thoughts
Because a person is more than what you think
They are one of seven billion, but how big is seven billion really?
And the world that you truly live in is made up of much, much less
So the next time you think you aren't enough
Remember that it’s you who controls whether you feel like enough or not.
And when I feel like I’m drowning and I can’t breathe during the day,
And all I want to do is crawl up in a ball in my house and cry and feel and be left alone
I have to be reminded how much I’m worth
Because even if we don’t know it,
We are all worth something
Even if sometimes we make mistakes
Even if sometimes we hurt ourselves to let people know we aren't fine
Even if we feel like we’re nothing
We aren't*
Because although the world is a hateful and horrible awful place full of ignorance and judgment,
There are still lights and halos and happiness and there’s laughter too in there
There’s babies being born, people getting married, and random acts of kindness being done
There are cookies and baklava and puppies
There are young lovers and happy children and sweet singing
There’s music and art and love being made
And although the babies may be still, the couples may get divorced, and the acts of kindness may be empty
The cookies may be burnt, the baklava old, and the puppies dead
The young lovers may break each other’s hearts, the happy children may grow up and the sweet singing stopped
The music may be sad, the art distasteful and the love not true
It doesn't matter because all these things are part of life
And all of these things were done by people
And you’re a person
So I’d say that’s pretty ******* awesome.

old people die  nobody cries
but the rain  on the pinebox

I am happy.

Finally, happy.

But sometimes, when the wind blows in just right and you can smell that hint of clean before the storm,
Or on quiet nights alone when the house is still and I lie curled under my cool sheets waiting for sleep,

The memory of what you were to me creeps inside and grips my heart.

When I’m blanketed in silence and the slight pressure in my ears is enough,
Or when the telling of another’s grief leaves me feeling heavy, knotted and small,
and then I realize it’s because I know.
I know that we have matching pieces of dark in us, them and me, and they recognize each other.

I am happy.

But to live is longing both to never forget, and never remember. Because forgetting means that piece of your soul and that fragment of your life were never really important, and remembering is proving that it was important enough to break you.

Finally happy.

But sometimes, when my heart beats and I can hear the sound of my own breath, I’m haunted by everything we were, and will never be.

And I remind myself again to forget.