Trying too hard.
That's why your legs are covered in bruises.
Smiling too wide
That's why he doesn't want you.
Crying too often.
That's why you're so good at making people laugh.

I wish i were a lighthouse;
Then I'd be my own safe place.
And the dark wouldn't seem so threatening.

Away from her is when you feel her the most.
You do not know how this is true, but when we are confused, the only thing left to do is find a way to understand.
So you looked for her; in drainpipes, in places that shined too brightly from the insides, in quiet dinners, in all the street corners that smelled like the flowers sitting on her front porch, and in the end, you feel so much smaller compared to how heavy the world has always been, even from it's beginning.
How could anyone grow while living on a place that does not realize how vital change is?
From the moment you came to being, from the moment you experienced so much light and hands and whispers and beauty for the first time that all you could do was cry as hard as possible, the wind has been pushing against your feet, trying to sing in all the places that cannot hear.
We see the still surface of a lake, or the deep **** of the ocean, and we know it is ok to jump in, and we know we can not be in it forever, and I believe you to be my favorite body of water.
We know that all the things that had a beginning, no matter their importance, no matter their size, nor their texture, all have an ending.
If there was no ending, life would have nothing else to offer.
I am writing this to you with my Mother's favorite pen, I hope you can feel the gentleness in everything you read from now on.
The world is a constant apology, when we tried to learn about our nature, we confused giving and trusting, and we never realized it. A year later I'm learning about true forgiveness, the type that doesn't ask for anything, the type you had when you were still a child.
You were singing to me and I was peeling apples and I realized that the only thing we really end up missing the most is ourselves.

1) For every great skyscraper, there are petty fingers that built them.
I wonder if we were made the same way.
They were strong enough to raise a hammer, but not enough to raise a family.
I wonder if we were made the same way.
She is cold, and he is drinking, and this is our backbone.
She is alone and he is driving home too fast because sometimes you don't have to be in the wrong place to be looking for the wrong thing.
She is afraid and he is warm, this is the beginning spark of a forrest fire filled with broken glass shattering in broken homes with broken people inside on a broken piece of land in a city that has too much rain for someone to build an emergency room in. Everyone with a burden holds their confessions in their left palm and their beggings in their right and no one ends up having enough arms to hold each other.
2) One day the whole world will be in your hands too, and you'll see that sometimes darkness can blind you worse than the red glare the sun paints your vision when you stare at it with your eyes closed.
You will be brave, you will stand up straight, you will stop being royal when people stop painting Jesus with a purple robe.
Even the concrete asks the sun to make it a garden so try cracking your knuckles a little louder and maybe you will wake up as a mountain.
3) Autumn. When you wrote secrets on notebook paper and taped them underneath benches in the city park, you gave too many pieces of yourself to things that weren't made for holding that much weight.
But you said it kept you honest and there were never any reasons for me to ask you to stop giving away the parts of you I wanted to myself. It kept me humble.
4) I am alone
5) You are October in a green dress with a black mask around your eyes and you have stolen the breathe of that day. And I hope when you are 80 years old you feel a breeze sliding on the back of your neck reminding yourself of all the times it should have snapped in half during the moments of what should have been your hanging, how it takes you back to living life like you're always in the desert and stealing innocent people's money and smoking cigarettes beside rattlesnakes.
I hope you find a beach in the Caribbean that asks to be died on, I hope you learn to forgive people harder than you can cry on their shoulder. I hope you watch a sunrise that you spend the rest of your life thinking about. I feel like for that to happen you need your feet in the ocean or underneath a rocking chair, but I would settle for your bedroom.
6) But with you it was never settling.

I'm sitting at the edge of every minute you thought should've been your last, thinking.
Thinking about how different things should be verses what they currently are.
What if my fingertips weren't built like the tips of matches?
My hands would be more skin than third degree burns or the look of a kitchen ceiling after a mother's cry for help after burning down the whole kitchen trying to put a meal in front of her children,
with an empty bottle of whiskey in her left hand.
If this is how it needs to be so that you can cope,
you can burn my insides like you're trying to get the attention of a rescue helicopter,
but don't think for a second you can use me to warm up your hands while we wait, don't you dare.
You can treat me like a war zone but you will not shed a single tear over any bloodshed pouring through my territory.
None of this should've happened.
The only tone you'd ever taught your voice was to let your tongue hit the back of your teeth
the same way rain hits the inner workings of a chestnut piano,
you set it in a storm and 'rhythm' loses its meaning.
You've been taking piano lessons since you were six,
your voice shouldn't sound this way.
Maybe if I had learned to let go the correct way,
If I knew there was a correct way.
Either you let go of something and watch it hit the pavement and try to keep the feeling away from your heart,
or you let it slip right from your fingers which doesn't work out well when your fingertips are made of matches and your veins are storing gasoline.

Vaccinate vacant expressions and hold elections for mayor
Impregnate impurities in the pure pawns that came for prayer
One dimension at a time trying to get across the chess board confined by squares
Spawn a queen made of dreams with the freedom to explore realms everywhere

Stone starts to float with malleable motions
Essence ascended after the mind broke open
Parting clouds allowed for clear messages the sun encrypted
Waves, sounding like home, powerfully reminiscent

Outside the atmosphere
eye could see the stars of the universe growing more clear
Only then to notice, my body disappeared
I transformed into light, in space manifesting new life
Creative insight, noticing wholeness in this day turned night

Limitless and diggin' this free flight
I feel the ecstasy teaching me all will be alright
Imagined a landscape and relocated with only beauty in sight

I raised mountains and probably thousands of trees
All commands consciously constructing the physical with ease
Waterfalls and animals emitting the only sounds
Accompanied by the breezy orchestra composed of those rooted in the ground

Astounded, awestruck, amazed, and confused
All this ability without a clue on what to do.
I flew back home and descended through the roof
My tether hasn't weathered and here is my proof
Every eloquent energy that rests in that room,
Is a petal on the flower that has yet to bloom

Beautiful regardless, all year 'round
Growing into capabilities we've only just found
Tuning in to open, peeling off the last mask's frown
Realizing the source inside yourself knows no bounds~

people
are
the
greatest
cause
of
loneliness
because
we're
all
too
busy
keeping
ourselves
company.

tell me something I don't know.
like how the wind chooses which way it wants to blow.
or why pain can distract us from our hurts.

tell me something new.
about the parts of the ocean that have yet to be explored.
and the time it takes to get over a person that got over you.

don't waste my time with common rhymes.
tell me what made you so blue.