You hold things, you hold them for a while
When in storm, a leaf learns to fly.

It though will belong to the tree it fell from,
Forever and all its life!

I've seen a ****** up version of love
And you've seen a solid version
I want a family
Solidity, love, belonging
I want a trust I have never known
I believe in love
With every fiber of my being I believe in love

These are the hands that will guide you to greatness,
These are the hands that will stay through the years,
These are the hands that will celebrate good times,
And these are the hands that will wipe away tears.

These are the hands that will love you forever;
When you are weak they will help you feel strong,
And, right now, since these hands are entwined together
These hands are precisely where they belong

Sweet sweet nectar of surrender
Of arriving home
Of peace
Of a nervous system coming to rest
Of hot tears that anoint and wash clean
That hold close the little one
Serious in her purple jacket
Beautiful
And so alone
Never inside
But outside
In a barren land
Of not being understood
Those big eyes
Taking it all in
Those big serious soulful eyes
That can now rest
Can now turn within
She could not stand the harshness
The discord
The loudness
The ugliness
The vulgarity
She wanted to vanish
From those lunch tables
It disgusted every part of her
That needed beauty
Harmony
Quiet
She needed peaceful gentle holding and seeing
For her sensitivity to be noticed
To be cupped like a butter cup
Softly, gently
Allowing the sun to bathe her in its golden rays
Her life has been a journey to those rays
Those nourishing rays
The warmth of the sun
The simplicity of alone
Of peaceful quiet and sweet surrender
Yes darling yes
Her exile was her becoming

The horizon is laid out like a flat dead line.
An end with no push or pull.
I don't remember when it used to be this way. Decided.
It seemed as if the land could stretch the volume of the sphere it claims to be, like the soft sheet of a bed.
Now, all that can be seen by the naked eye is the invisible aggressive gate, weighing its prisoners trapped.
The key thrown in space.
How could I attempt to find this key? The action will only be useless.
I will only swim through blurry haze , never finding the solid ground I once knew. Decided.
The more I fill with unbearable ending, the further the lifeless horizon appears; every last bit of hope disintegrating into star dust.
One day the gate will unlock and reveal how far the horizon can go.
Dancing fields that fold into mountains. Inspiring sights and dreams glazing your finger tips.
But I will stay in my dead end. the horizon will stay decided. my worth will always be questioned.

what do you do
what do you say
when you realize
you are no longer what you were
feelings and opinions
passion and light
drifted away
only shadowy memories
ghosts left behind
What do you do
when you forget how to be you
can you see yourself in a song
feel yourself in a breeze
what happens when your moments
don’t feel like your own
When your years are a lie
cleverly told
That’s not like you!
What is?
What am I
what should I be.
But most importantly
who cares.

Where do I belong,

in this made up town.
Surrounded by fake crowns,
and bodies walking around.

I do not belong with royalty,
Nor with the common.

I’m broken and made,

into what I am today.

I wear this façade,

to not be out flawed.
Though I fit here,

It is not where I belong.

the bits of apple
between my crooked bottom teeth
remind me of all the homes i’ve lived in
or almost lived in
that have left a sweet but spoiled taste in my mouth
as they rot just under my nose
i have yet to find a place to rest my head
not a clean pillow or warm chest would welcome my cheek
but i have looked and obsessed and tried
i have tried
my fingers ache from all the golden knobs i’ve reached out to
just to have them slammed in the door
again and again and again and againandagainandagain
the wide and narrow roads are lined with
quaint front porches and crooked mailboxes
they are bursting with life
sad ones and dramatic ones and unremarkable ones
gasping and pulsing and humming
but there is nothing suited for me
all the welcome mats have been flipped over
before i clear the front step
so i keep running my tongue over the bite of longing
in places i rather not be