Slip your fingers

Down the throat of your coat

Carry your confidence on your sleeve.

Hush the voice that is telling you

Tearing your ears to shreds

Of long forgotten cups of milk

And saucers of Mac and Cheese.



Carry your compassion on your chest

Like a badge of courage

In the world of history and ecclectic memories

Of warded off demons

And tired mothers.

Carry your pride

Under your shoe soles

Let it hide under there for a few months



So that the devil can't find you.

Do not admit your

Innermost feelings and thoughts



Or else I’ll kiss you

Heart and brain are stuck,

Fingertips are freezing cold,



My words cannot say

Crusts of oldish paint--

My tea has long since gone cold



Where are you, my dear?

I'll hide

Within the tea jars

And the broken whistles

Where, hopefully,



They won't think to look

It's the kind of thing

That catches in your throat

Right before you are asked to speak.



It's the kind of thing

That stops your breathing

Right in its tracks, stone cold.



It's the kind of thing

That has your heart pumping

Gallons a second.



It's the kind of thing

That I find my brain yelling



"NO" about.

Don't put too much pressure

On the things you find beautiful

They will crack



Don't lose touch

With who you've been

Because you might forget



Don't leave behind

Your friends

You might feel lonely



Don't

Stay where you're unhappy

When there's so much out there



There's a world of symphonies

And you've seen very few

Like one or two



You can do

pretty much anything



Because you're strong