Baby Didn’t Break Me.  
He Knew How To Put My Pieces Back Together,
Like He Knew My Broken Edges Better Than I Did.
Where I Was Sharp Or The Frayed Pieces, My Seams, He Could Restitch.
So Much Beautiful Sorrow, Our Lives Were Draped In. And Somehow This Smile Can’t Be Stolen.
Our Lives Were Filled With Moments That Held Flames, These Were The Days Of Wonder, So Baby Don’t Cry, Don’t Cry.
It Was All Just Short Of A Miracle, So Much Was Held Between These Palms, I Knew My Forever Wasn’t In Wishing Wells Anymore.
I Didn’t Make Mistakes, I Was Just Made Of Them.
And Somehow Between All The Lines That Blurred, He Could Make Me Believe Differently. You Could Be The Type To Grow Up Wishing In An Afterlife, To Become Someone New, But My Right Now Was What I Needed.
Hearing His Heart Beat Was Like Knowing I Wasn’t Alone Anymore. It Wasn’t Made Of Skin And Bones, But Silk And Gold, And It Could Take You Up So High That You Had To Look Down To See Heaven.
I Wanted To Be Interwoven Into The Fabric Of Who He Was, Stitched Into His Past,
I Knew He Belonged In My Future.
There Were So Many Layers We Put Up, Layers Meant To Impress, Stripped Off When It Was Only Him And Only Me.
They Say Monsters Were Inside Of All Of Us, But I Finally Learned How To Empty Myself Out, Self-Loathing Was No Longer In My Vocabulary, The Distance Could Stretch Out Inside Me, The Distance The Size Of Bravery And Remind Me That Wounds Around Wrists Are Nothing Except Pretty Regret.
Ink Had Always Been My Best Vice And Most Honest Virtue, But I Could Write For Hours And Never Understand How To Describe The Unfathomable.
He Was My Best Story. <3

Fall In Love Or Fall In Lust.
Make Plans, Or Make Cookies.
There Is Living To Do Here.
There Are Books To Read, And Movies To Watch.
There Are Art Museums Meant To Wonder Through, And  Ocean Waters To Taste.
There Are Plays That Deserve Standing Ovations, And Musicals With Words That Need To Be Sung, There Are Girls That Need To Be Kissed, There Are Boys That Need To Know What It Feels Like To Have Their Hands Held.
There Are Poems That Need To Be Screamed At The Tops Of Someone's Lungs. There Are History Books With Frayed Edges, And Broken Tea Pots That Died Before Their First Breath.
There Are Heart Throbs Waiting To Make Teenage Girls Swoon.
There Are Jeans, With Knees That Are Begging To Be Ripped Open.
There Are Sunflowers That Have Never Been Told “You Are My Sunshine”.
There Are Grandfathers With Empty Laps, And Mothers With Empty Wallets.
There Are Law Students, With Hearts Ready For Humanity, There Are Babies With Broken Families.
There Are Fortune Cookies With Untold Wisdom, And Grandmothers With The Best Rhubarb Crisp Recipe You Have Ever Tasted.
There Are Undiscovered Passions, And Ancient Ruins.
There Are Empty Canvases And Blank White Walls.
There Are Silences, Recorded And Played Back For The Ears Of The Empty. There Are Places On This Earth Where The Sky Is The Color Of Bleeding Tissue Paper. There Are Places On This Earth, Where Dry Lightening Storms, Are As If God Himself Is Snapping Photos.
There Are Lost Valentines, And Flickering Lampposts. There Are Forgotten Dates And Remember Birthdays.
There Are Lost Puppies And One Man Bands.
There Are Butterflies With Missing Wings, And Eagles That Mate For Life.
There Are Places We Put Our Insane, And Others We Place Our Sick.
We Have Tattooed Our Mistakes On Skin, And Branded Cattle To The Same Tune.
There Are Times We Fall Together, And Others In Witch We Fall Apart.
There Are Moments When We Gage Our Existence In The Breaths We Take, And Moments When We Gage It In The Moments That Take Our Breath Away.
There Are Times We Take Chances And Times We Take Pills.
There Are Moments When We Bruise Our Knees While Praying, And Others Where  We Break Kneecaps For Dollar Bills.

There Is Living To Be Done Here.

There Are Words To Be Spoken, And Even More To Be Written.

“My Hero, Shes The Last Real Dreamer I Know”

She Taught Me How To Live, With Outstretched Palms Reaching Toward The Sky Like Branches On Trees. She Sought Sunlight Like A Love Drug, And Fought Disaster With A Unknown Word In My Vocabulary.
It Was Something Called Hope.

She Smiled, Only When She Meant It, And Told Me That Happiness Is Beautiful. Taught Me That Its Easy To Find, Exchanged On Street Corners And Sold In Candy Stores. She Taught Me To Give It Away Too, To Hand It Out Like Heirlooms To Memory.
She Told Me To Give It To People Who Needed It, Like Cancer Patients And Babies With Broken Families.

Devastation Followed Her Like A Storm, And I Always Stayed Ten Paces Behind. I Could Feel The Rain Before She Ever Could.
But She Told Me To Tape My Eyes Open, And Wait For The Oncoming Storm. It Was Like Lightening Inside The Contours Of My Skull, And My Hand Would Reach For Her's, Beauty Fighting With Perfection.

And Our Hands Would Meet, Fingers Threading Together Like A Zipper Of Prayer.

She Had Wounds. Ones We'd Learn To Heal Together, And The Renaissance Of Reality Was An Eternity Spent Being Left To Our Own Devices, Turned Deity Upon Ourselves.

She Also Taught Me To Not Be Afraid, When She Had Betrayal Written On Her Skin, And Words Like “Back Stabbed” Rung In That Air, She Knew It Had Happened So Many Times, A Transformation Had Begun. No Longer Human, But Something Else Entirely.

Her Children Taking Root In Soil, She Knew  The Empty And Aching Wounds Were Like Holes In A Watering Can. She Was Meant To Be Who She Was, From Where She Had Been, And Going Only Where She Chose To Go. She Is Beautiful But Vices Hold Grips On The Insides Of Her Ribs, As If She Is Too Afraid To Inhale.

But She Is Beautiful.

Fear Takes Solstice In The Weak And The Wounded, And She Has No Stock In Fear. Love
Is Like Blossoms On Roses, But Thorns Draw Blood Just As Quick As Needles Do, And We Learned That A Long Time Ago.    

She Taught Me That Devastation Is Beautiful, That Hope Can Not Be Fished Out Of Wishing Wells, And That When Hour Glasses Get Glued To Table Tops, Time Is Not Measured By The Breaths We Take, But By The Moments That Take Our Breath Away.

She Tells Me Shes Proud Of Me, But I Want To Her To Know I'm Proud Of Her, And Distance Stretches Between Us, A Distance The Size Of Bravery.

So To The Woman Who Told Me That Dragons Do Not Exist, And Then Led Me To Their Lairs, I Love You.
I Always Have. And Always Will.