Would that I could breathe my heart onto these pages for you.
That my lips would part their blushed pink line and whisper words into the air,
a rush that dried as ink on white.

I could tell my story in all it's honest imperfection,
to lighten me,
free me,
give me hope.

Oh, that I could close my eyes and rest,
only for a moment.
And while dark feathers dared to touch my cheeks,
I could open my eyes again - for the first time - and be renewed.

And yet, here I find...it is in my grasp.
My voice seeks out a new song to sing.
My eyes seek to find the light within myself,
and within you.

All hearts bear scars and somehow keep beating,
it's within us to give all we have
until we are spent,
our faces pressed to the ground,
then we stand again and spark the fire anew.

Would that I could be the one to light that spark in you.

That my fingers could brush yours and know in that touch -no fear-
Certain that neither will seek to bruise the other, but to uplift them.
Lighten them.
Free them.
Give them hope.

Would that I could bleed my heart onto these pages for you.
That my lips would part their blushed pink line and whisper words into the air.
A request-
that found it's way to someone who needed me too.
I could tell our story in all it's improbable charm,
laughter
love
and hope.