River gift, flowing upstream and down
Cresting with the bumpy waters tow,
Slick as an eel, you move and fro to play,
Warm in the gleaming sun that rides
With you each day,

                              you have shone, great
Knowledge of salmon, found the pearl
In the dark mussel, bend as even light
Must, piercing the waters of the under-
World, lording the fey, riparian borders,
Like a God.

I was a child filled with wonder
filled with love and curiosity.
I was a child who loved questions
and to wander without anxiety.

Not even a year old
had my heart turned cold.

As a child,
I was relied on,
depended on,
beaten on.

As a child,
I only knew pain,
heartache
and how life
truly was.

Life wasn't fair
not even to a child.
Not to a child's heart
without a care.

Only a few rays of light
shed through the cracks
in the wall of my heart.

Not even an adult
had my eyes become
so old . . .so alone.

The only thought that remained
"Become stronger. Stronger.
No limitations, no excuses."
I had to be stronger for her.
So she wouldn't crumble.

I have become stronger
but I have become a stranger.

My strength leaves me though,
when he holds me tightly.
His arms become my home.
and his heart is my life.

This was my answer,
she has also grown stronger.
I have been on autopilot all along.
I should have just known.
I am Strong on my own.
But I am Stronger
with the friends I have found.

Changes happen quickly
That’s what happens when you have a fickle heart
Oh to be human
Oh to feel –
But wait, aren’t those the same?

A complete paradigm shift
Like an earthquake of the mind
Leaves wreckage in scattered memories,
Beautiful trinkets lost in the rubble of broken homes.

What a metaphor for the heart!

Can you dare to believe that someone will heal you?
How could you put that weight on someone’s shoulders?
Your pain is yours to bear
Despite sweetened words and rosy promises.

You can’t fix anyone from the inside out either.
Eyes only see the surface,
Only see the façade, unintentional or otherwise.
Truth does not exist for you to see.

Truth. What is truth in love?
Is there truth in love?
Or is love a woven contradiction of hopes and fears,
Bent on the naïve wishes of teenage girls longing to be adored by boys with bright blue eyes and midnight hair?

Does the heart have a shape?
Curves and straight edges?
I think it’s a gooey blob that drips across the barroom floor
And if you’re not careful to clean up the mess you leave behind
You leave yourself behind.

Funny how that works. Ironic perhaps, but definitely cynical.

And if you don’t clean up like your mother always told you to,
Then it’s really your fault if you ask me.
Shouldn’t you know better by now?
After years of hearing what’s good for you and what isn’t
Why do you still have to be so stupidly stubborn?

You’re wrong, just face it.
Your heart is a useless lump that pumps hot red blasts through your body
That splashes pink across your face and lips
And catch his eye.

But don’t say I never told you, no don’t you dare say I never told you
That this silly little love story would end,
That it wasn’t even a love story to begin with.
Hell, it wasn’t even a story -
Just a ****** poem written in a lost-in-the-rubble diary that’s falling apart.

Yeah, I told you so.