yours deep dark eyes can not see how beautiful they are to look into,
but mine can!
your soft, **** lips can not feel how wonderful they are to kiss,
but mine do!
your mind, clouded by self doubts, can not see how magnificent it is,
but mine can!
your heart, blinded by self contempt, can not love you at this moment,
but mine does!

Sooner or later I hope you will
see what I see,
feel what I feel,
appreciate what I do,
and love what I love,
about you,
my dearest friend,
who can love me
like no other!

Thinking of the many people
That have walked through here,
Stayed a while,
Seemingly excited about being here,
Making meaningful connections
With others of like mind and spirit,
Excited to have found something new,
Perhaps an oasis in the desert?

Then left without a word,
Without even a goodbye!
Where did they go?
Why did they go?
Didn't they find
Anything
Of Lasting Value
Here?

Perhaps just a stepping stone
To something better
Would be of some
Consolation...

I am very grateful
For the few that have stayed!
Or at the least, the ones that
Cared enough
To say
Goodbye!

When judgments are believed to be facts,
Especially our own judgments
About ourselves,
They have great weight and mass,
They can crush us like cannon *****,
Imprison us like concrete walls.

But when we see them
For what really they are,
Mere thoughts,
Often chronic opinions of ourselves,
(Perhaps spawned by the
Opinions of fools?)
Seemingly solid as rock, yet
Grounded in nothing,
They have no weight,
They have no mass,
They cannot hurt, nor
Imprison us.
They are no more dangerous than
Snowflakes on our noses,
No more confining than
A morning fog.

They say home is wherever you lay your head at night
That must be true
because my former house has a lock on the door now;
a lock to keep me out.

I never realized this is how it is to be homeless,
the endless wandering of a place to rest at night
the endless cycle of hunger and
thirst and
protection

I walk out of work with not a place to be in the world
and if I’m being honest it should frighten me.

I am a wanderer.

I have no sense of direction,
no moral pull,
nothing to lose and everything to gain.

I have this endless feeling of discomfort and
an airy breeze where the good in my heart and soul should be.

I am a girl, not a very beautiful or talented one.

I belong to anyone who belongs to everyone.

Home is where I rest my head for a night.

Home is a backseat
Home is a smoke filled room at 2 am
Home is a parking garage
Home is a strangers bedroom

Home is a feeling rather than a location,
but those who have a lock and key and
a mortgage fee will never understand.

Hide not in shame from me
The darker sides of you.
They are merely shadows
Of your imagination, not real!
The more you hide them,
The darker they will look.
They are only the parts of you
Yet to be exposed
To the illuminating light
Of Love.

Trust me, Darling,
You are beautiful to me!
Your dark sides
Are no darker than mine,
No darker than anyone elses.
Once they are brought
Into the light of my accepting,
Unconditionally loving gaze,
Your shadows will recede
Into your imagination,
From where they were born.

Standing naked before me,
You will finally discover
All the beauty that is contained
In the lights and darks
Within yourself.

Happy Birthday to me
Happy Birthday to me
Happy Birthday dear Mystery
Happy Birthday to me
Finally turned eighteen
Let's light some candles
And I'll make a wish
On the count of three
One...
Two.....
Three...
*I wish I had never been born

Underneath it all
Is just
A little girl

A little girl
Who fell in love with
The rush of wind through her hair
The feeling of flying
The risk
The reward

A little girl
Who crashed
And crashed
And crashed

But never gave up

Is there any chance that you could
Look past my

Eyes

Mouth

Nose

Legs

Arms

And feet

And judge me by my heart?

The scare is there on your chest, I see,
Where a sword once pierced your heart.
This wound that never really healed,
And left you in the dark.

The skin closed over it, blocking out
The light, air and water
Needed to flush it clean.
It has to heal from the inside out,
Not the outside in!
The pus must all come out.

The wound has become septic,
And the pain will never go away
I fear, but instead,
Will linger on,
Killing you silently,
Bit by bit, thought by thought!

Open your wounds to me,
And let me wash them clean!
Don't hide them in the dark.
Expose them to the light and air,
And let the shame and poison
out!

Opening your wounds again,
To a loving mind like mine,
Will cure,
However crazy
That may sound
To you,
Your sick and broken
Heart.

It is Spring, and of course,
I love her madly!
But our lips will never meet!
I will never hold her gently in my arms,
Never touch her soft body with mine.
And it is, sadly,
Better that we won't!

Yet I have already touched her heart,
As she has, mine,
So many times before,
That we often live
Inside each others hearts.
And sometimes,
We beat as one.

Alas, we will never make love,
Our bodies will never be entwined,
As one, in passion's embrace,
To give what lovers give,
To take what lovers take.
She is not for me,
She is destined for another.
And I, to step aside.

Yet our spirits are sometimes united,
Like the light from two candles,
That becomes inseparably infused,
Impossible to separate,
Whenever their flames
Are held together
As one.

I have no regrets!