This is a familiar place.
Ah, twas the in the same dream when I first saw your face.
Lucid as it may have seemed to be,
Who ever would have thought you’d find way to me?

I held you close, I learned you well.
From that devilish smile to that wonderful smell.
You were mine to hold forever on.
Until suddenly, you were gone

And how I miss that heavenly bliss,
I had found in your sugary sweet angel’s lips
Now I may never forget the things you said to me
What once was a dream is now sadly a memory.

Words are explosive.
And we drop them without feeling, never knowing the aftereffects and never caring.
Sometimes these words tear through like bullets, and suddenly our bodies have become war zones.
We are fighting with verbal weaponry over everyday things,
"The dishwasher should've been emptied."
"Your grades are too low."
"You hate me? I hate you too."
I've dropped the F-bomb enough times to rival a thousand Hiroshimas, with worse destruction to match.
The tears in my mother's eyes, the anger in my father's throat, the returning hate in my brother's voice.
We've turned linguistics into lashes,
goodbyes into grenades,
inside jokes into IEDs.
We are slowly killing ourselves and everyone around us with mouth-made machine guns and silver-tongued bullets.

Over time, our words start to lose meaning.
The more we use them, the lower the shock value, as if we've become accustomed to seeing missiles fly past our windows during breakfast.
"I love you" becomes an everyday thing, a once destructive phrase that left mouths open and knees trembling, but now contains the emotional value of a Kleenex, that can be replaced by another, just at the tips of our fingers.

My world is a war zone but I want peace.
I crave to have meaning.
I've been through enough fights to know now that I should think before I speak.

I want to capture my words.
To run through fields and bottle them up in Mason jars, ensnaring them between my hands like fireflies,
taking them home and only letting them go out when they need to, so they don't lose their shine.
And when we're sitting there, laying in each others arms, sheets tangled into an underground jungle, I take the glass jars down from their shelves and slowly unscrew them.
They settle on your skin, twinkling stars embedded into your body, reflecting the light through jail-cell eyelashes.

We must learn to turn our backs to the world's war zone.
Only then can we fully love.

Let me be free, walk free, live free, laugh freely.

Let me enjoy life and disregard what others say.

Let me trust few and love many, and the few I trust, love with all my heart.

Let me take joy in sharpie drawings on skin, nose kisses, orange streetlights that glow on midnight walks, good cups of coffee, and you.

Being on earth is such a blessing.

And being on the earth with you, is even more of one.

Sometimes I cry
Not because I'm sad but because
I can't take this

Sometimes I smile
Not because I'm happy but because
I'm tired

Sometimes I yell
Not because I'm angry but because
I'm losing you

Sometimes I laugh
Not because it's funny but because
I've got nothing else

Then sometimes I think
Not because I'm wondering but because
I already know the truth

We stood on the wood bridge
over old Shoal Creek when
you reached up and shook
a handful of snowflakes
out of the white winter stars.

Just a handful,
just a few cold crystals
that tumbled down into the lazy
loping water of old Shoal Creek.

As we watched them come down,
I grabbed your magic hand
and held it until those falling
flakes were swallowed up
and swept downstream,
thinking you were as rare
as an Alabama snowfall
and I needed to hold your hand
to keep you from disappearing
just as quick.

You grew up
on the side of the road,
between sidewalk cracks,
in backyards full of
tall bahia grass,
pushing aside their
stems so you could
find the sky.

You grew up
beneath the sun
and out in the rain
and under every
booming thunderstorm
an Alabama summer
could throw your way.

Dogs ran through you.
Men, too, trampled you
but you sprung back up,
rumpled, but still bright,
unbowing, even when
they said you were just
a gangly **** that no
one would find beautiful.

(I found you beautiful,
because your face was
the sun, and I find it
everywhere.)

You grew up.
You had to grow up,
grew white and fragile
and one day the wind
came for you and
carried you away.

Fly far.

We used to go on fishing trips during the holidays,
She never really liked fishing
But she was willing to tag along just for me.
She'd lie on the deck in her bikini, tanning
While I would fish.

We used to shower together every Sunday evening,
I preferred the water a little hotter than she did
But I was willing to twist the blue **** a little more just for her.
I'd stay in the shower a bit longer after she got out, heat turned up
While she would dress.

Because wherever we found compromise,
We found love.