I used to string poetry
like linen on wire
so soft, and yet so damp.
My thoughts were the wind
and I could breeze all I could
through the sheets of paper
in my books.
Baskets of washed words
probably stained by the grass and grime
because I used to dig so deep
just to find the right words.
I used to be so fluent,
so inspired and free
I was wrapped in my linen
the sun was all that really spoke for me.
I used to reach up
and the rest would fall.
This was my poetry
and it fell to my desire.
I'm going to string my linen
and let the words return again.

I built a hundred bridges
Just to jump of each one
And as I floated down
And fell
Into the waters that we once
Breezed so slowly through
I realized that the rocks
Beneath the surface
Weren't as vivid
Until they hit the edges of my bones
And collapsed my chest.
These spines cannot take
Any more jumps
And my heart can't take any more
Strikes
This lump in my throat can't seem
To keep itself from
Flairing
While my words can't seem to calm
Me down.

I don't know what I'm trying to say
But maybe one day I will.
Just as long as you remember
What I did say
Is all that really mattered.
Because even though the pages of our books burned and tore at the bindings
My spine never cracked when I said
All the things I did
Without hesitation.
When you read my palms as they intertwined with yours
And when you read my back like it was brail
You open me up much deeper
Into the story
And that will never go
Unread or burned.

Happiness should be like
Quick trips
To grocery stores
And baking bread
At one am
While we dance
To our
Favorite songs
And talk about our
Dreams
And destinations.
Happiness should be
Togetherness
And honest innocence
No mistaken upholstered
romance
until the night falls
And happiness
Becomes
One.

I didn't expect that
letting you in
would shred me down
and tear my skin
like tissue paper
exposing me like
the cliche open
wound.
But good thing I always
carry
extra bandaids
and sometimes a
needle and
thread
because when you have
learned
to patch up
your life
like a quilt
you'll want to wrap yourself up
and remember
to stay warm and
safe.
Remember
thing's may not be
easy
but remember what its
like
to be soft
and secure.

I had a long drive
with my
distant memories
and found
nostalgia
in the sunrise I
discovered
in the end.
Sometimes wrong turns
can lead you
just where you need to
be.

You sting like the
liquor
dripping
to the
back
of
my throat.

One to one
or one to no one.
So far apart yet so close
and we still think
we have it hard.
But how do you think the stars feel?
Light years from each other.
If they can go years
I can go a few days.
Or a few weeks.
Maybe a couple of months.
A year later, and maybe some more.
Yeah, I think I'm beginning to know
how the stars feel.
But at least I still get to see the
sun rise
every morning.