thump-thump. thump-thump.
my heart. still beats.
i am. alive.
my blood. still runs.
am i. awake?
or am. i dead?
thump-thump. thump-thump.

thump-thump. thump thump.
my blood. still runs.
i am. alive.
my breath. is quick.
am i. alive?
or am. i dead?
thump-thump. thump-thump.

thump-thump. thump-thump.
my breath. is quick.
i am. alive.
my mind's. racing.
am i. alive?
or am. i dead?
thump-thump. thump-thump.

thump-thump. thump thump.
my mind's. racing.
i am. alive.
my hands. they shake.
am i. alive?
or am. i dead?
thump-thump. thump-thump.

thump-thump. thump-thump.
my hands. they shake.
i am. alive.
i try. to breathe.
am i. alive?
or am. i dead?
thump-thump. thump-thump.

thump-thump. thump-thump.
i try. to breathe.
i am. alive.
i can't. get air.
am i. alive?
or am. i dead?
thump-thump.
thump.
thump.

Sometimes everything you know has to burn
so you can rise from the ashes and grow into something better.

When he was seven and I was ten
I kept a collection of things I loved on my headboard.
A watch from my grandma.
A war medal of my great-grandfather's.
A medal I had won after a hard match.
A small trinket that he had made for me.
He asked me about it once, then things started appearing on his.
His first knife from our grandpa.
A picture of great-grandpa in the war.
A small flag pin.
A small cross I carved for him.

When he was ten and I was thirteen
Grandma and Grandpa died within the same month and left things for us.
A eagle sculpture for each of us.
A ring for me.
Grandpa's collection of ties for him.
A switchblade for me.
An old .22 for him.
When I was getting ready on the day of the funeral, I heard a soft tap on the door
And when I opened it to see his sheepish expression framed in the collar of a button up shirt I didn't say anything
and taught him how to tie a tie.

When he was thirteen and I was sixteen
I saw him spiraling down the same path I had.
He sunk into himself.
I noticed.
He didn't want to talk about it right now.
I didn't make him.
When he finally came to me with tears on his cheeks and admitted he needed help,
I helped.
That Christmas, I bought him a wallet and he gave me a small wrapped present
That rattled slightly when he handed it to me.
It was a cross on a silver chain.

The wallet is getting worn out
and the cross still hangs on the inside of my shirt
close to my heart
just like he is.

~~

Dear Little Brother,
You might be three years younger,
and your green eyes still filled with wonder,
but you're learning how the world works
and how to understand each of its quirks.

You need to be careful out there
that you aren't scared and caught unaware
Learn from my mistakes, and you'll find
We're separate people, not of the same mind.

Don't forget to breathe sometimes
I swear to God that it's not a crime,
and though they may tell you you're too soft,
Do not, Do Not let your heart become frost.

Little brother, learn to fight your own fight,
and learn to let your light let others shine bright.
You are not a waste of space,
and you'll need to find your own place.

When I'm gone, I need you to understand
some things are worth taking a stand.
You need to fight for what you believe
and don't you dare waste time to grieve.

Don't you dare waste time to grieve.

My hair may be cropped short,
and I may wear unconventional clothing
and I may not do the things expected of "polite young women"
and I may love whom you say I have no right to love
but that does not give you the right to shame me.
That does not give you the right to try to change me.
That does not mean I have to find words to explain me.

Ego sum qui sum.
I am who I am,
and I will not define myself by what you expect me to be.

The sun fights to stay above the horizon, but longs to sink beyond the hills and the trees to bid the world around us good night.
One by one, stars become visible in the quickly darkening sky, eventually forming constellations that weave themselves into the universe.
They tell stories, legends, myths: Orion and his loyal dog, Canis; Apollo's messenger, Corvus; Draco, the fearsome dragon.
None of them can pull the same feelings from me as you do.
You're warm, soft, silent; your body is flush against mine with your head against mine and your hand rests on my stomach.
It's late, and my parents have both texted me multiple times.
"Where are you?"
"Are you safe?"
"Young lady, if you stay out too late again that cell phone is gone"
I should go home. I should be home.
I should be parked in my driveway and walking in the front door.
The only problem is that right now, in this perfect moment,
I feel more at home in your arms than I ever have anywhere.

I relate, Rover.

My battery too, is low.

And it is getting dark

But it will be

Okay

...soon

Life is a song where everyone dances to their own beat
Some learn to dance quickly, some are born with two left feet
Some are taught how to dance and teach others how
I've finally found my feet and my rhythm
But you're threatening to throw me off
With your winking and your flirting and your soft smiling
Could I learn to dance along to your song instead?