as every drop
falls
remember this;

the rain
is not just rain
but refusal
to remain a part of a herd
that does nothing
but block the light
or carry a tragedy.

thunder
is not just thunder
but an apology
a low rumble of regret
for the transgressions of it's precursor

lightning
is not just lightning
but a warning
a signal of, somehow,
both hope
and surrender
at the same
time.

honey
     after you were gone, everything started to grow bitter. all i want is
     for  something to feel sweet again.
chili powder
     you brought a variety into life that i've never found elsewhere.
     although i loved it- and, in honesty, still do- i've understood life
     without it to be bland.
headphones
     i hear the sound of your voice in the way people tap their feet and click
     their pens like you did. the refrigerator hums songs you used to sing
     in the silences you created when you stopped singing them to me
tissues
     isn't it funny how you used to be the one who made my tears dry,
     and yet now, you're the one who removes the dams my eyes had
     finally built?
birthday cards
     it is a profound celebration; i've been reborn into someone whose
     love can no longer belong to you.

a bird may break free
but still fly out of it's cage
straight into a net.

.1. i know that i didnt give you the best headstart. despite how much i said otherwise, i always secretly hoped things would get easier near the finish line. ive yet to decide if how hard it still is means that was blind optimism or that the burden is bound to be bettered.
2. ive never believed in ghosts because its easier to think you cant reach me rather than know you wont reach me.
3. when i broke my promises, it left only me with the burns and the bruises.
4. when you broke your promises, it left only me with the burns and the bruises.
5. it was then, when the sound of the crickets chirping became a scream too strong to silence, that i knew there would not be a dusk i did not feel alone.
6. i havent cut my hair in years because your sister told me you loved playing with it.
7. when i wake up each morning, before it all comes back, before i remember, before i forget, before ive even the chance to do either- you are there, and i know that i will be, too.

i explain my joy as the power outage of a home
                      on a holler
                               in a hurricane.

the lights will flicker
from the sun
to the bellows of the ocean
in such a way that nobody
can confirm
nor deny
their presence.

you can t
                a
                  s
                    t
                     e  them
from the sidewalks
and the alleys,
but when they are gone
all you can taste
is the cotton
and cicuta.

your gratuity
is not sincere
if it is balanced as a pendulum.
the anticipation of return
counteracts
the authenticity
of generosity.

it is acceptance that brings humility-
acceptance that a gift
is not equal
to inherent necessity for reward.
you cannot define "gracious"
while using the words
"owed"
or
"deserved."

allow every inch of your heart
to be a gift.
to be opened
received
and valued
for it is not in balance
that we show love-
but in the counterbalanced abnormality
of sharing.

to pluck each petal
off of a rose
             leaves
                  only
                        the
                            thorns.

i refuse
to w
        i
          t
            h
              e
                r
                                                    
                                                   away.

no matter the
                              drought-
no matter the
                              little light i receive-
no matter how
                              strong the wind that
                                                          blows.

i will
   fix
my roots in Your soil.

i will
   quench
my thirst in Your grace.

i will
   become
a garden
   in
        the
              desert.

no matter the
                                circumstances
i am bound
to   b l o o m
with You
as
the gardener.