poetry is blood
not words
poetry is heartbeats
sighs
sunlight in your eyes
poetry is life
it is not english class

She always wondered what it would be like to be loved
And not slipped under someone like a glove.
She always dreamed of not being a man’s trophy.
Yes she
Wondered why
No guy
Seemed to truly love her
Enough to stay.
Day by day
She’d think to herself
This may well be the reason her daddy didn’t
Stick around
Long enough to hear the sound
Of her first cry
Because he too knew
Before she was born into the world
Deep down inside,
There was something wrong with this girl.

So she chased every guy who smiled in her directions
You see,
Seeking love was her infection
Passing the shards of her heart
To each ‘brand new start’
Thinking they were the one
Who would put her together again
Yet every encounter left her even more broken
Each ***** gentleman left a token
Of their ‘gratitude’
Which was pain etched on her pieces of heart
Leaving her further away from the start

“What’s wrong with me?
Am I not worthy of love?
Or am I just a girl
Destined to be second in another world?”
She’d cry out.
Then she’d search about for the one.
Yet it never occurred to her to
Seek out The One
Who could truly save her

The One who died on a Calvary Hill
Healed the demon-possessed and the ill.
The One who bled dry to save,
The Ancient of Days,
The Prince of Peace and Lord of Lords.
Yes Jesus the risen Christ,
Who mends hearts and makes them alright.
The one who two thousand plus years
Defeated death
And Is worthy of all praise and cheers.

Then one faithful day they met
Her heart could not believe the love
After so many years of neglect.
The Jesus she always cast aside
Pieced her heart back together
And gave her access to forever,
He cleaned her sin with His blood
And anoints her with His everlasting love.
Yes the broken she
Was now the beloved Princess
Of The Perfect He.

//t.a.b.

I wrote this for you a long time ago on a coffee stained napkin, after you left me, full of love, lingering in a cafe.

"For you, in all your follies and faults and the way they make you so perfect for me.
For you, in the moments that linger in the vehemently insignificant corners and corridors of things, as if drifted of their own grandure.
For you, for the words that spill to the floor and the brilliant way you understand the deafening silence that follows.
For you, for your supernovas and clever shades, for your daylight smiles and nighttime skins.
For you, for your familiarity and the impossible truths that stand as martyrs to say that I have loved you before.
For you, despite the treachery and quiet sinister fun of the world.
For you, for making me so terribly scared of dying."
Yet here I am, in your wake, so full of so many thoughts and demons. Know that I have died, that I have loved and lost with equal measure.

It's too soon to live in memories
I try to convince myself
Years don't change everything
I try to convince myself
This is no prison I'm living in
I have the keys, the locks are not broken
I try to convince myself I have a reason
For not using them

Grab a pen and some paper
Some of these are important
I just know they are
These are the things that made me what I am
Aren't they?
The sum total of all my experiences, right?
I need to chronicle and catalog
Separate the wheat from the chaff
This will set me straight
Or maybe not...could be a waste of time

Time takes them away, one by one
Teases, bringing some back
Then snatching them away again
Despite my best efforts
To hoard them
Years don't change everything
The cruel workings of time
Are eternal

Of this I am convinced

I've sacrificed freedom
To live in a cage
To settle for memories
For fear that hurt would break in
And make itself comfortable
Quick to remind me of the memories
It helped make

I'm convinced I have no reason
To break these chains
An empty house, alone
Is better than such bad company