i wrote you a letter the other night.
draft after draft
i shoved into my drawers-
this isn't what i want to say.
this isn't enough.
why isn't this enough?
i couldn't sleep because the words
the words kept eating me alive.
they've made a home inside my feeble
feeble lungs.
my ribs hug them-
keep them warm and snug-
remind them to stay.
i inhale "where-are-you-are-why-aren't-you-here"
i exhale "    "
my words
they sit
and sit
and sit
(i mean, where else would they go?).
i'd tell them to you but there's this thing called distance
between us;
i'd tell them to you but you're right in front of me.
so instead i wrote you a letter the other night
in hopes that maybe one day i'll understand.

you still exist
in the crinkled pages of my notebook.
last autumn i dog-eared the top corners so i would find my way back.
your veins dance with the curves and loops of my
frail
frail
words.
the contours of your dreams lay in the indents of my ballpoint pens.
your fears bleed black and blue.
your voice--the raspy scratching of graphite before bed.
my sentences often sit incomplete because that's how you left--
in the middle
without warning
because you lacked a single transition.
your breath echos at the turn of every page
inhale--look back
exhale--look forward
(i can almost feel your lungs working alongside my own).
your blood runs red as i scribble across the pages--
at times i am in a frenzy, lacking control as my hands skirt along the paper.
other days, i am silent, waiting for my hand to pick up the pen
and bring you to life.

i keep telling myself that
you still exist
in the crinkled pages of my notebook
but
every time i close its covers shut,
i can't seem to find you.

I don't like labels.
Labels mean restrictions.
Oh, you want to do that?
No no, you can't!
Labels mean expectations and
Expectations means disappointment.
Labels mean something has to be
Ought to be
Like this
& not like that.
We'd constantly be thinking if what we were doing
Was what we should be doing.

I like labels.
Labels mean structure,
And structure means order.
If everything was in its place-
Exactly as it ought to be-
We'd be okay.
We wouldn't have to worry about crossing over the lines
That the world has drawn up against us.
We'd know what to expect
And what to feel.

I'm floating
Floating on a little river
Down to who-knows-where.
Direction and time is something
Unheard of
In a place like this.
Time could be tick-tocking away
And I could care less.
The current's taking me wherever it pleases,
And I'm in no mood to argue today.
It's just the river and me-
Enjoying the sunlight and summer breeze.
It's nice finally nice not having a care.
There's no burden
Or heavy weight dragging me down
On this little river of mine.

Lost soul,
Where are you going?
You walk on a path
A path to nowhere.
Your head is aimed low
With your hopes even lower.
You can't look up
In fear of what might be there.
So you just hold back
And look down.
Down down down
Where your crushed dreams lay.
So again I ask,
Lost soul,
Where are you going?

You say you're on a quest
A journey
To find the truth.
You turn over rocks
Look underneath the bed
And search between every crack.
You squint
Hoping your vision blurred
Will stir
Something new.
Maybe you overlooked something
Perhaps you missed what's right there.
Like they say,
It could be right under your nose-
Hiding in plain sight.
But you constantly run
Constantly avoid
Constantly turn away
From what's in front of you.
So how can you say that you're searching for truth,
When all you do is run away?

Help me
Before I fall too hard.
I'm one step from the edge
And I can't turn away.

I wonder if there will ever be a day when people will stop treating each other like possessions.
You'd think that in kindergarten we had been taught how to share.
“Everyone gets a turn,” our teacher would say.
"Five seconds at the water fountain after recess.
Pass along the book to the person next to you.
Share your box of crayons with those at the table."
We were taught how to share the tangible
The objects at our feet.
But what my teacher never taught me was how to share the intangible-
Concepts such as time, trust, and love.
Ultimately at the end of the day she never taught me how to share people.
The problem with people is that you want to keep them-
Keep them close
Keep them tight
Keep them safe.
You don't want to take turns because you fear that they will find someone who is better than you.
That one day they will leave because you were not enough.
So to suppress our paranoia we resort to rules and regulations.
We employ the facade that what we are doing is out of love
When in reality we are living in fear.
People are not possessions.
We are human beings
Capable of emotion and free will.
We are granted the ability to choose
For that freedom is what distinguishes ourselves from the rest.
We are not objects upon a shelf
To be taken down when felt like or guarded like a metal safe.
We are not punching bags
To be used at one’s disposable.
We are not mountains
To be climbed and conquered.
We are human beings
Yet humanity continually treats each other as if nothing.

you said you’re on a quest
to find the blessed rest
which can make a person feel whole—
and thus ease your burdened soul.
so with a wooden ship but neither compass nor crew,
you set sail across the seven seas in search of what man knew.
you argued with the fates
and begged the gods to open the gates.
you refused to entertain the silence of your mind,
and scorned the stars of the sky for not being aligned.

so with questions unanswered and feet more calloused than before,
you altered your course to a more distant shore.
to a land a man once spoke of where the sun did not exist
and where life flourished when midnight was kissed.
a place where the only music heard was the laughter of souls
and the only thing which existed was man’s fleeting controls.

and though the months have turned into years
and nothing has changed—especially not your fears,
i hope a morning will come when our feet touch the same ground
and the great unknown is at last safe and sound;
i hope a day will come when the only thing forsaken is your desire to roam
and you—you, my dear friend, can finally come home.

Regret is being locked in a room with mirrors plastered on every possible stretch of wall. Everywhere you turn you can see yourself in all your glory. You see the dirt underneath your nails from each passing night. You see the redness of your skin from where you had obsessively scrubbed clean. You see the blisters on your fingers from desperately clutching onto the burden you constantly bear. But what you don't understand is that- yes, regret is being locked in a room, but you are the one holding the key.

Let go.
Let go of that burden that you
Desperately
Cling to.
Your hands have gone white
Because of the tight grip around it.
Are you afraid?
Afraid to drop it at His feet?
Do you feel unworthy of His grace?
Do you feel as though the sin you've made
Is written across your face?
The answer is yes and yes.
We are unworthy
Unholy
Unclean.
But He calls to us-
He chases after us!
Because He loves us.
He loves you.
& He loves me.
Even after all that we've done-
All that we've hidden
All that we've failed to do-
He still loves us.
& His love is never ending.
It flows like a fountain
Without end.
There is nothing we could do to stop that love
From pouring out
Towards us.
It wraps itself around you and me
Encompasses us until we do not see ourselves.
We see change.
We see a difference.
We see God.

I was never one to stay and you were always one to leave.
We were from opposite corners of the same puzzle,
But how I wish we could have clicked together.
& maybe in some sense we both already did.
We were both wanderers-
Seekers of the great unknown.
Walking the paths of others before us
Just to find a place to call home.
& I suppose I should be happy-
No, thankful-
In having our paths crossed.
But it's quite a shame they weren't intertwined.
I would have liked that very much.

If I listen carefully,
I can hear the lapping of the ocean tide.
The splish
              splash
                       of skipping rocks.

If I close my eyes,
I can feel the sun again.
The warmth my hands held
For those few seconds.

If I stop for a moment,
I can still find traces of those stolen moments.
Of that sweet summer
Trailing in the October breeze.

If you promised me you'd stay,
Would you spend the night
And tell me it'll be okay.

Hold me tight
Never let me go.
Wrap your arms around
My fears
My failures
My faults,
Make up for what I can't do.

Catch the tears I cry.
Wipe them away.
Tell me tomorrow's coming-
A brand new day.

Just hold me
And never let me go.

No matter how hard the the wind might be blowing right now, i still can't be brought to where you are.

I shouldn't have opened my door for you.
(After all aren't you supposed to be the gentleman?)
You left the door wide open
So that you'd have a sweet escape.
But I mean the least you could have done is closed it
On your way out.
At least have the decency to say "goodbye."
At least have the common courtesy to say
Where you're bound to next.
But you didn't do that.
You didn't say "bye."
You didn't say anything.
You just
Left.
So even though I'm starting at an empty doorway,
Let me be the one to say it.
Thanks for everything-
You were there when I really needed a friend
And for that I am grateful.
It's been an interesting trip,
But like everything else
It's come to its end.
After all
I'm not a firm believer in "forever"
When it comes to people..
But I hope that wherever you go,
You'll be doing all right.

Is waiting
For an answer
When you ought to be sleeping.
The Hardest Part
Is waking up
When you should be dreaming.
The Hardest Part
Is smiling
When you feel like crying.
The Hardest Part
Is giving up
When you want to keep trying.

The hour I knew loved you
Was not in late morning when you pulled a chair up for me.
It was not in mid afternoon when you brushed my hair out of my eyes.
It was not before sunset when you say goodbye and pulled away.
It was not at 3 am when you whispered “I love you” as I fell asleep.
No, it was not during any of these.

The hour I knew loved you
The sky was on fire.
The sky bled of the secrets you had so desperately crammed into your veins.
The sun tore through the clouds--
Blazes of orange, red, pink, purple, yellow streaked across the horizon.
Your desire was written in the unfathomable distance from where I stood.

The hour I knew loved you
The world was in a flood.
A torrent of rain pounded against my frail windows begging to be let in,
“Hear my story. Hear my story.”
They reverberated through the halls of my lonely house.
It was frightening and dangerous and yet the most beautiful sound my ears had ever heard.

The hour I knew loved you
The earth broke open.
A great divide tore between from where I stood and where you longed for me to be.
The dark abyss contained the great monsters of time,
Clawing out to drag another victim to his grave.
My bones shook and my body ached as I stretched myself across the gap.

The hour I knew loved you
My heart broke into two.
I broke my ribs to make room for your beating heart of loss and love.
I straightened my spine to carry your burdens;
I crushed what little I had of myself to give you a place to stay.
& what a great privilege it was to have you take refuge in this broken body of mine.

These feelings need to die
Because they aren't doing me any good.
They've already grown roots-
Holding onto the deepest part of my mind.
& it *****.
It really really *****.
Cause it's all I think about.
It's all I see when I turn around.
& I know, oh, I know,
How dangerous these thoughts can be.
So I'll grab a knife to
Cut out these silly little feelings.
I'll take a hammer
And nail my heart up.
I'll layer bricks high
Just to keep you out of sight.
& though it might hurt just a tad,
It's probably better this way.

will you tell me of the hues that drip and bleed onto your canvas—
the streaks
the smudges
the smears.
are they the ones flowing through your veins
twisting—turning
to reach that place I long to call home?
or maybe the ones residing in your eyes
flickering—hiding
behind the mask you too willingly wear?
will you
show me the color of dawn
when darkness sheds its skin and kisses goodbye.
the amethyst seas
where sirens beckon from the deep.
the color of blood
when it meets oxygen’s lips.
the strokes of rain against the window pane
where you spent your autumn afternoons.
the cups of undrunk tea
that your mother left sitting on the kitchen table.
will you
show me the hues of your paint-stained hands
that I have yet to hold
so maybe—just maybe—
I too can see the colors you see.

I find it hilarious
How we know each other so well.
We're like two halves of a whole.
Synced onto the same wave length.
But it's not going to be so funny when
One day
Maybe some time soon
That our connection will (have to) be

cut.

Under these sheets
My problems lay.
My pillow lies next to me
When it really should be you.
A soft imprint still sits from where you last were.
A mere trace of who you used to be.
A ghost of what I used to believe.
But like every word you ever said,
It's all gone.
All that's left is empty sheets and lonely nights now.

You're looking for a soldier
Who'll stay and fight.
Hold that gun high and proud.
But I'm the one who'd pull the trigger
On myself.

You're looking for safe ground
A place to rest your tired feet.
But every where I step
A crack in the pavement is made.
My feet is battle scarred by the bits of brokenness I've walked on.

You can train me up for battle
As hard as you want.
Put me through all the courses
Run all the laps needed
Make me to be the ideal fighting machine.

But as hard as I try
To stand my ground,
Someone always has the upper hand.
A  bigger gun
More bullets.
And bang
I'm left for dead.

I know it's just a number,
Something made up of ones, twos, and threes.
It isn't a label,
But I feel as if I've lost the stamp of approval.
I'm way up here
But I want to be way down
there.
After all
The less one is
The more he is viewed.
& sometimes it doesn't hurt to be seen.

Temporary fixes
Is all I've ever looked for.
A little something to take the edge away
A little something to make me forget
A little something to make everything okay
But it never lasts
This temporary fix of mine.
It's prescribed for my head
But never for my heart.
I keep wanting more and more
Because more and more
Just piles up
With
Each
Passing
Day.
This place I call home isn't the safe haven
I've grown up in anymore.
The endless laughter and smiles
Can't cover up the pain I dig into.
My precious notebook and pen
Can't scratch out reality.
Things have changed,
And I just want to get away.
But the more I've tried,
The more I've been denied.
It doesn't work.
It doesn't work.
The pain can be buried,
But uncovered once again.
The cuts might not bleed,
But they've left a scar.
There has to be something more than
This-
Than this temporary fix.

no matter where life takes me
no matter where life takes you
no matter how many the miles between
remember that we are both
underneath the same sky
and for that I will be grateful.

I'd sing you a song
But we've grown out of tune.
A simple melody we were
Basic notes strung together
In hope to be something beautiful.
But notes turned long
And the tempo changed
As we crescendoed toward the final measure.
I'd write you a story
Except the ending's already here.
We were never a blank page from the start-
Already ink stained from the constant rewriting of our chapter.
We wrote and we wrote
Until
Our pens gave out mid sentence one night
From all the
Scrawled out words
Crossed out mistakes
And unwritten secrets.
I'd paint you a picture
But the colors have run dry.**
My palette of reds and blues and greens
Have mixed to a murky gray.
The paint brush has grown stiff in hand
As I stare at the mess I've made.
What used to be something wonderful
Has become a blur of
Bad timing
Indecisiveness
And "oh wells."
Where there used to be a picture
Is now just an abstract version of
What could have been
But
Never will be.

There's so much I want to say, but all the words stay jumbled up in my chest.
There's so much that I'm feeling that I don't want to feel.
I used to want to cut out this heart out of my chest,
But after awhile I realized that this heart of mine
Should not be hated – but thanked for.
I used to want to be numb—
Feel nothing at all.
But having the ability to feel
Is what makes me me.
If I didn't have a heart,
But just an empty cavity,
Then I wouldn't be able to care about
You
Or
You
Or
You.
& the truth is that
I care about you and you and you a lot.

There never seems
To be enough
Seconds in a minute
Or
Minutes in an hour
Or
Hours in a day
When it comes to this journey called "life."
There always seems to be
Somewhere to go
Or
Someone to see.
If it's not here, then it's there.
If it's not her, then it's them.
I frantically rush from one hour
To the next
CrammingCrushing
Everylittlething
Until there is nothing left but
Me and a hundred of thoughts,
A myriad of worries,
And a pyramid of plans.

But it's then that I take a breathe.
I take a breath
& remember You-
The Great Beginning
And the End.
For even but a moment
It is just the Father and I-
A father and his daughter.
I rest at the feet of Jesus
Like Mary once did.
There is no agenda
No rush
No need to be anywhere but here.
I am humbled by His presence for
He radiates
Love,
Holiness,
Self-lessness,
Patience-
All that I am not.

I tell Him of my day
And the fears that have taken root:
The fear of failing,
The fear of disappointment,
The fear of not being good enough.
"It's too much!"
I cry out.
"I can't do it!
There's too many things and not enough me."
But my Father,
He tells me to list.
He tells me of how He has a plan-
A plan of joy
Not worry;
A plan of peace,
Not distress;
A plan of victory,
Not defeat.
"Child, yes, you are small,
But I am big-
Bigger than your plans,
Bigger than your hopes,
Bigger than your fears.
So take comfort in Me
When life is not at rest.
Find solace during the story
While knowing that I calm the seas."