some churches have bones,
and a graveyard for all the prayers
god didn't answer

i came back to run my hands all over your catastrophes.

tonight i drowned out the silence with the sound of your voice
i watched your hands touch the darkness & turn it into light
i felt your eyes burn holes down the curve of my spine
i tasted years of sadness in the warmth of your mouth
i felt love move inside me when your skin touched mine
please love,
don't ever stop
making me,
*feel

i tried  
to climb over the clouds
and float through a mountain
i met no resistance
i faced it head on,
i pushed,
until i became it,
and now,
i don't know
how to move
the weight
of such power
perhaps, we are better off small

©rainecooper

i want to be the reason there is light inside your eyes again. the reason you worship the sunrise, instead of clinging red knuckled to the end of each dying day.

kiss, as if time is just an illusion.

i think how we need to be loved as adults stems from our childhood (or lack thereof).

if you were abandoned, you need to be smothered, to know every second that you're adored. but as a child you were always alone, so the very love you crave makes you feel suffocated and crawling white knuckled to get out.

and so this war rages inside of us, until we have exhausted ourselves & perhaps those who were brave enough to extend their hands.

©raine cooper

maybe love is to watch a thousand winters pass, and still stand by his side because you know he's made of spring

because he tried to clean up the mess left by her father's hands.

i've never let go of your hand, even when you don't have the strength to hold mine

there is a tall boy living inside my chest
he is the fingerprints all over my memories
he's why i stand at the edge of this cliff,
and why the view burns my lungs
he is the reason i breathe
and the reason i can't
he is the answer to every question
and why i'm always asking more
he is the mist hovering over the ocean,
sometimes i can't see him
but i know he's always there
he is the reason i feel small
and why my hands can touch the sky
he is the tall boy living inside my chest
and even death will not take him away

the sun doesn't shine in your world, and i wonder why. perhaps it's because you choose to write all your poems in the clouds.

one day the rain didn't come
her suicide note read,
i'm sorry i was nothing more than a life of falling

i no longer speak to the wind,
she doesn't listen,
and she blows whichever way she wants

to love you is to breathe, even when the weight of a thousand wars have moved their fight inside my chest.

some people already have a view, a light over the horizon.
their feet are dipped into an ocean that holds many of their secrets,
but they become bored with the mundane & seek more meaning to their existence.
perhaps someone else's ocean will taste differently.
perhaps they'll finally learn how to swim.
willing hearts & open hands accept these travelers because maybe they're an adventurer just like me.
but really they're just passing through.
they only want to experience new flavors, to swim in unknown seas.
they need to escape but they'll never leave.
cowards perhaps, to temporarily give up the comfort of the river and sink into the oceans' depths.
but the ocean is not quiet & neither is the wind.
she will shred your sails & sink your ship.
she will not forget how you stirred her waves into a tsunami and left her there to drown.
when the night becomes indifferent, seek change first within yourself.
you will never find light in another if you do not love your own hands.
do not take arms you know you will eventually let go of.
do not awaken hearts you cannot call your home.

and so we go on. and the ocean waits alone, for the next light on the horizon.