I finds cracks on people
who pretend they're whole.
So maybe that's a blessing.
Or maybe it's a curse.
Either way,
I can't save them all.
And there are too many out there
who laugh with broken hearts.

It's cold in here.
Where I sit.
Waiting for the doctor;
To tell us you made it.
We all talk about you.
About how you lived.
A life of yelling and drunkenness.
A life of regrets.
They say your kidneys are failing  
That you're not doing well.
But we try to stay positive
For, even after everything, we still want you to live.
I'm your granddaughter.
And here I regret,
That I didn't try harder
to talk to you about Christ.
Now I sit waiting.
In this freezing cold room.
Hoping you don't go
So I don't have to feel like I left you
On this road of destruction that you paved all on your own.

I remember once hearing,
this sentence when I was young.
That if you really, truly loves someone,
then they're never really gone.
So I loved you like an ocean.
More than the eye could ever possibly see.
And after you left, I did remember you.
But realized, who would ever remember me?

I was young and naive.
I let my heart get deceived.
I bought all the words from your tongue.
Fell for the webs that you spun.

I got caught in your grasp.
Locked in your clasp.
I didn't realize just how far it had gone;
until it had all went wrong.

And isn't that how it always is?
No one ever knows they're stuck until their two feet in...
Until they're already sinking.

It's the simplest of sentences that cause the greatest of quakes in our souls.

Like, "I love you" and, "Goodbye".

Simmering,
dripping
words.
Caught in
tongues.
Spreading
like
dandelions.
Falsities.
Fragmented
truths.
Some sipping the
words like
humming birds.
Consuming quickly.
Spreading like
pollen on
more
tongues.
Relishing.
Blooming discord.
Growing hatred.
It spreads.
Until,
the sky opens up.
Weeps.
Great sorrowing
drops,
cascade down.
Plummet the
earth.
Clears it.
Cleans it.

There were clouds in her eyes,
From dreams she longed to share.
But instead rain fell from her open skies,
In rolling drops called tears.
She held on to all her dreams, for fear,
That no one would ever really steer,
Their planes into her stormy life to see,
Her land, her skies, or her deep blue sea.
When she once opened up herself to show
The world she had let inside her grow,
The ships and planes all turned away.
All cowards, fearful of a little rain.
However, over time it all evaporated.
That lonely rain got cloaked.
By plane's that were wreaked,
And their black puffs of smoke.
Her eyes no longer held that thunderstorm.
But instead they have changed form.
Now behind her eyes rests a burning forest,
That engulfs everything with an ember- a promise.
She isn't that fearful girl anymore,
Who wanted people to come in and explore.
Now, instead, she is a raging, flowing wildfire,
Who will never again cry
For those who run from her attire.

You lick your lips,
and your tongue slips back behind your teeth.
Just like a sword,
being tucked back into its sheath.
Now, you are preparing for yet another day,
to come out of a dual victorious.
But oh, my vicious opponent,
one of these days your words won't leave me injurious.

"What can be easily torn apart,
can be quick to deceive,
will build up walls just to rip them down,
is foolish and naive?"

"What can be tremendously fierce,
and all at once soft,
if unprotected, pierced,
and hard to defrost?"

"What can hold love,
yet shatters it like a porcelain doll,
can soar like a dove,
or just as easily slip and fall?

"Where are you trapped,
what keeps you locked in?
Answer this riddle,
and you'll be free; for you win."

              *

I think over the words.
Turn them in my mouth.
I have to complete the riddle,
or I'll never be let out.

Without hesitation, I turn to my captor.
A small lock that rests on thick bars.
waiting for my answer.

"Well, even though you try and thwart,
me and my very freedom.
The answer to your riddle is my heart.
So let me go, for you've been beaten!"

My voice echos in the chamber,
that I now realize is my chest.
The rips make up the cage,
and the heart's been holding me in arrest.

I press myself against my lungs,
and take in a big gulp of air.
The key hole shrikes as it unlocks
And I leave my self made snare.

If you peel her skull back,
And look inside her mind,
You will find cases filled with memories,
That she keeps labeled and organized.
There is a small one for her dreams,
That has gotten covered up with dust,
For she is always putting off herself,
For those that never cared about her musts.
Then there is another shelf half filled,
That she has labeled "The love that I learned",
And it's been being slowly emptied out,
By those that have borrowed from and never thought to return.
Then you will see one very large,
That is packed more than the rest,
It is labeled, "All that has hurt me",
And she knows every one of the titles and their context.
There is more smaller ones scattered here and there,
With faded titles and broken shelves,
But they're all hiding in the shadows of her silent self torture,
Because we convinced her that there was selfishness in loving herself.

If I close my eyes,
I can sense it.
The stiff,
unrelenting
chill.
The brisk morning runs.
The reddened apples piled under trees.
If I close my eyes,
I can remember it.
How it passed every year,
like the mourning of a loved one.
How it tastes like bitter words
from the mouth of an angry parent.
It's the end of warmth.
Winter is coming.

My body's stained with the proof,
of all of my regrets.
All those mistakes that I had made
I know you all wish you could forget.

I might not have lived the best one,
but I hope you remember me in stories.
And know that despite my lack of using the word,
deep down I am very sorry.

In the end, I tried my best to hold onto,
The life that I once knew.
Of coffee cups, of cigarette butts,
of and old Chevy truck named Blue.

Loved ones names came and gone
Their goodbyes all sounded the same.
I finally let go of all the sickness,
Now my body isn't in as much pain.

Like a flower blooming in the spring.
And like the trees dying in the fall.
Every body and mind have a season.
And mine has come to a stall.

Now, here I lay, in a rough white casket
Where I'm spoken of in summary.
No longer am I anything,
but a man in whose become a memory.

Slowly slipping down the stone walls,
You built so many years ago.
The one made with ****** fingers,
from every cruel and insensitive word.
You stacked it up with shaking hands,
and filled it in with broken hopes.
You thought it'd keep you safe,
but somehow pain always finds loopholes.
So the words kept slipping in,
and you kept bleeding out.
And the only real difference now,
was that no one could hear you shout.
You couldn't fight against their words,
And neither could the stone.
So in breaking it down you learned,
That sometimes pain is better than being alone.

My heart was ready. Finally. After so many years of being uncertain and gradually pulling down the pieces of me struggling to break the surface; I can breath. I see the blue sky and the shore. I feel the gentle wind, assisting me across the waves. I hear the seagulls cries of joy and I bask in the warm suns rays. I taste the drying salt on my lips and allow them for the first time in so many years a chance to peel back in a gradual, enlightening smile. And as I float closer to a safe shore, I smell flowers and the fresh buds of leaves growing on the trees. I am ready. Beyond ready, to float to safety and peace. My heart has yearned for so long to break free of the waters dark expanse, and all I had to do was let go. To let go of the girl who was always waiting so heartbreakingly for a life raft. And instead become the woman who learned to float and breath and love the simplest pleasures of my senses guiding me to safety. Just let go. Let go, and be.

The truth is very simple.
Our world desires hate.
It will tell you lies inside of truths,
It will smile while it manipulates
It craves the swords on our tongues,
and the stings from our fists.
It feeds us hope while we're young
just to give us knives to cut our wrists.
It tells you to be positive,
while throwing daggers of misfortune at your feet.
It laughs when you're broken,
and whispers to you words of your defeat.
It will want to be your friend
just for the purpose of destroying you
Lifting up all your hopes and dreams,
then making sure you never follow through.
Man plays an awfully risky game,
Where your life is the thing put at stake.
And if you don't play your cards just right,
that's exactly what the world will take.
So, when the world is pulling triggers,
and you think that it's too late,
remember what God gave us,
and know that your love can conquer hate.

The world is nothing without words;
without mans cogitated thoughts.
The world is silent with no voice;
if man doesn't help share it's deepest plots.

It's fierce wind blows silent and hollow.
Begging for mans whispered dreams.
Revealing to us its greatest sorrows.
Through it's ripping seams.

Solitude is the world without mans loud vox.
Endlessly spinning day after day.
Trapped in its own Pandora's Box.
The only key to this chest is the words we say.

So don't hold them in.
Or keep silent.
For without our words;
the world will forever pay.

They were greek mythologies;
Of a Trojan horse and forbidden love.
They were fairy tales;
Of shining armor and pure white gloves.
They were the end and the beginning.
Of a child’s book told time and again.
And they were all just stories.
Believed in,
until they were forgotten…
Yet, still beautiful while they lasted.
They were.

I'm the kind of girl who remembers the first day I met you.
But forgets where I placed my phone two minutes prior.

The girl who sees the sadness you hide behind your smiles,
but takes ten minutes to finally see the can of green beans in front of her.

The girl who smiles at people who've hurt her.
And say's, "I'm fine" when I'm not.

I may never be the smartest in the room.
Nor the prettiest in the group.
I might never be the funniest.
Or the one that always has everything figured out.
But I can guarantee this:
I will always love.
I will always smile at strangers,
and listen to those who need to be heard.
I will always be respectful to everyone,
despite our differences of opinions.
And I will always be kind.
This, this I promise.

Whenever I think about being loved,
I think about all those small moments.
You know, the small gestures people do.
The way they go out of their way to say, "I love you."
With their kind smiles,
and teasing pokes,
and questions about how're you're doing...
However, sometimes there's just not enough small moments in a day.
And maybe that's why there just isn't enough people feeling loved.

It's a hole,
An abyss,
A seemingly endless pit of nothingness.
No light...
No air...
It's the very core of darkness.
You see no shadows,
but you feel their cold embrace.
You hear no voices,
but your thoughts fear their screams.

Your mind becomes the cruelest of all things.
Drawing up the allusion of beast's.
The ones that hide between the walls;
knocking while you drift off to sleep.
The ones that slip under the bed,
as soon as the lights wink out.
As soon as you full up the sheets...

The dark is the place of terrifying imagination.
Were your worst dreams become reality.
There is no escape, for you are blind.
Only the monsters know where you are.
And- and they are there.
Waiting for you to shut off the light,
for the sun to die...
For the dark.
For you to bring them to life.