Kite Strings

At the ripe age of three

I would take full sheets of paper

and set them gently in front of me

and think of how beautiful they were.

Because they were waiting for my words.

But it wasn't until I was in the eleventh

grade that I found them

hiding with my heartbeat.

I never really fought with my fists

but I fought with a little too much heart.

Felt a bit too much

but I don't regret it.

Nor will I ever.

Do you know how to make things beautiful?

The cellist sitting on the street corner

bowing those strings that haven't yet

broken and remember,

that you never paid attention to how it looked.

But it was gorgeous.

And you're gorgeous.

We never measure life

with how many

heart beats we've got

we measure it by how many

miles we've walked.

And although we're not perfect,

neither is God.

We are strong.

We are beautiful.

And I wonder which is more dangerous;

a bottle of whiskey

or a loaded gun.

But it doesn't matter

because somewhere out there

there's someone promising

that they will paint their lover's

portrait in the sky with fire.

And all my life I've hated being a man,

so I decided that these poems

they're my children.

And after you hear them,

I hope that you'll carry them with you.

So don't walk through your life

with your ears covered.

This is for the women who make our heartbeats.

Who give birth to lives.

And this,

this is for the men.

Who sacrifice everything they have

just so they can keep telling

someone that they love them.

I can count ten thousand reasons

to be alive.

But only one reason to be right here.

Beauty kiss my lips.

Mercy show us tears.

We have to fill the gaps with something alive.

So I spend my spare time remembering

your eyes by heart.

Let's split this night open.

We'll cleave it with our words.

We'll sew together our gaping wounds

with the strings of kites,

so that when the wind blows

birds will pluck at them and make

music from our strife.

Remember this.

We couldn't have asked for a more

exciting time to be alive.

So let's make something beautiful.

Lay me down under a blanket of stars

so that when I wake up I can

find my way home.

This world can be cold but

I've learned that heartbeats are louder than gunshots.

And you don't need to tell me there's more out there

Instead I'll go stargazing in your

eyes and strip these

ribbons from my arms.

Build me.

Give me something worthwhile.

And let's learn

how to make things pretty.

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