we lay there,
you with your back turned
to me.
i used
my fingertips
to trace
the words
my mouth
never has the
courage to say.
and you just fell asleep.
and i'm starting
to think that's a metaphor
for what you'd do
if i let you
hear what my heart
has been *screaming

I used to think courage meant keeping everything to your self
That strength was bottling things up to deal with on your own
That crying was weakness and vulnerability was foolish
It’s not.
Somehow you’ve managed to teach me that
Courage is sharing your burdens and
Real strength is sharing your soul
Even if tears fall as you do it
And you’re left feeling more vulnerable than ever.

I have seen her playing
With light, edging her hair,
In crescents so fair.

I have watched her fingers
Twirl and twine, beaming gold,
Threshing precious hold.

I have witnessed the taming
Of the sun's rays, captured,
Spinning in rapture.

And I feel for the pale moon
Who offers his frail, vestige light,
While she sleeps at night.

My life has been painted onto canvas
I am not a painting strewn through
Museum walls
Not yet
Black for the loss
Red for spilt blood
And blue and purple for bruises
Yellow struck up from
The bottom
Childhood memories
Sea foam green
For the waves carrying me onward
Watercolors
Built on messy strokes inside garage walls
And too much caffeine late at night
My purpose has not yet been decided
If I am to be
A landscape or a face
Or maybe an animal
But I am
Beautiful
I don’t hang inside
Museum walls
Not yet
But I am still,
Beautiful
As the painter and
The painting

I still long for your hug.
I can't stop my eyes from tearing up whenever your memory decides to trouble my peace.
Maybe you were right; I can't help but see you in the flawless image I first drew.
I can't help but feel the innocence shinning through your face, the warmth of your eyes hugging me.
Should I consider myself a left toy?
Was I an ugly one, or did you realize you had something more beautiful?
I'm happy I had you.
I know you still have me.
Maybe someday my malleable heart'll into stone.. I promise though you'll find your name carved at the center.

You left me hungry for your love but I don't know how suddenly I feel so satisfied.
I expected myself to break and bruise my own skin with the shattered pieces of the glass castle we once built.
It was only one rock, one that was aimed so wisely, that made everything fall apart.
I still don't know who threw that rock.
I often find myself wondering.
I still believe there are some metal boxes in that house, boxes that not even that rock can break, that not even your flame can burn.
I hope you're able to find the treasure I find when I open them.

Probably you saw our castle as a little camp.
The weekend's over; it's time to go home now.
I thought I was your home.