Happiness should not be a visitor
It should be a permanent guest

we are not for each other
and maybe I will never be for anyone
or maybe
no one will ever be for me

I fell asleep in the canopy of an oak tree
Laying down on a high, thick limb
Thick enough to support my entire body
Limb carpeted in stubby tree fern
I awoke to the sound of birds,
And a gentle breeze, reminding me its fall
A small, fat bird perched contently
And I found myself wishing I was a bird
That I could fly away from my problems
That I could close my eyes and finally jump,
But being a bird I could catch myself with wings
I have the comfort of knowing it was myself
That was keeping  me going

and it seems as though there is nothing wrong with my own precious heart- it has been blessed and made sacred, I have been tested and reviewed and through all my examinations I have processed
I have been consecrated without my knowledge, baptised without consent and without an idea of destiny- I did not know where I was going and I thought my shattered heart was on its shattered road and my broken soul was headed to brokenness but God has been mending me and melding me all at once. I have been made whole, for I am whole. He has planned out my life for my best good but I could not see it, my eyes skipped over the road and forgot where I was headed, without the grand picture in front of me I lost who I was and could not see a clear image-
after all
a poet believes their whole life that they are broken
and finds, at the very end,
that they were flawless all along.

it's a little ironic
that there is something wrong with my heart
that I, this hopeless poet, has a defect
in her favorite topic, her favorite metaphor-
and that this, this, the source of her life, should fail her.

Heartsplit*

A measure of the time
Between one part of a relationship
Not caring as much
Anymore

And the other responding
The same way

Slightly longer than a heartbeat
Slightly less than
Love

Perhaps being aware
Never takes us
There