Sometimes love is rough. Rough like sandpaper rubbing away the last remnants of her smiles.
Sometimes love is long. Sometimes you have to wait for love because sometimes love gets lost. Lost in between the islands your hearts call home.
You might see love. Love might have curly brown hair that she tucks behind her ears. Love might be shy Love might hate the way her glasses are too big for her face but you tell her she looks gorgeous in them. That makes love smile. Love hates her smile.
Sometimes love is late. She most likely won’t come when you want her to but she’ll come when you need her.
Sometimes love is messy. Sometimes love is indecisive. Sometimes she says she doesn’t care even when she does. Sometimes love apologizes a lot. I know you get so and but sometimes love is scared. Scared because she doesn’t want you to leave her. Scared because every other person she’s ever let in has left her. And love is tired of feeling like a burden because sometimes love feel like a burden.
Sometimes love is a lot of things at once. Sometimes I just want to be seen.

I saw a path and ran ahead
I nearly lost my way
Your mercy caught me by the arm
To Your side You bid me stay

I put my hope in my own plans
Which soon around me fell
You stopped me short upon that road
And said, "Rest and all will be well."

I'd surrendered all, but to my foe
Enticed into the briars
You turned his evil schemes instead
Into refining fires

I couldn't see my helplessness
Until my legs were broken
Till Shepherd's hands caressed my wounds
And healing words were spoken

You picked me up and carried me
And made me feel Your favorite
You held my head against Your chest
Until I grew to savor it

You tended me with gentlest touch
Then soothed all thought of fears
You sang forgiveness over me
And washed away my tears

There is no one like You, Lord
On whom I can rely
In loss, in danger or attack
You hear this poor sheep's cry

It's You Who keeps me from real harm
Who watches my coming and going
You shield me with Your strong right hand
From darts the enemy keeps throwing

You said to all who trust in You
You would give perfect peace
Enough for mind and heart to rest
To let all worrying cease

So, Lord, I trust You with my life
Your Shepherd's heart is pure
Your purpose for me's guarded well
And Your deliverance is sure

Please teach this sheep, Lord, how to wait
And strengthen me to stand
To put my hope in Your desires
And to love Your sovereign plan

You lead me into fields so green
Where streams of life are flowing
Where healing winds blow oft' and strong
And choicest fruits are growing

You set me free to hear Your voice
To follow at Your call
And even through the dark, cold nights
I'll know You've arranged it all

Yes, storms will come with battering rains
With hail and gusts and thunder
But these are meant to beckon me
To Your wings to pull me under

For it's in the darkness of the storm
My grip's most apt to tighten
And when my heart beats next to Yours
All earthly burdens lighten

I try to contain the poison that leaks and streams
from my brokenness
...as tears streak my face
looking like streams in the desert
...but there is no refreshment in these bitter streams...
I heard that it was a choice to be broken
...but why would I choose to break myself? Maybe it was all of the curses that I've spoken-
against myself...
have I unwittingly foretold my own emotional death?
...and all of these years I flaunted it like it was emotional depth...
Whatever the case- it doesn't matter
Noone has hurt me more or been as unkind
As I search the corridors of my heart and my mind,
I find that
It is I
Replay after replay of some emotional torment, trying to find the fault with me...
That **** hurt- why can't I just leave it.  Right. There?
What they did hurt! And that **** ain't fair...
Why do I feel the need to make it about me?
It's this kind of behavior that keeps me from being free
I've become my own enemy
...so I lie here and I continue to bleed
And I try to contain the poison that streams
From my brokenness
...as tears streak my face
Looking like streams in the desert
But there is no refreshment...

Breathe,
Please for the sake of your heart.
Stop yelling!
Stop digging your grave deeper.
He wouldn’t hear, even if I spoke louder than his anger.
The frustration is building.
His fear, his brokenness.

A man tortured by an illness
A life not lived,
a person not changed.
From the bottle
to the cigarette
to the stabilizer
Fifteen year chip and he’s still the same

A woman helpless to helping him
“What did I do she always asks?”
As if she is to blame for his outbursts
his anger that covers his depression and regret
She’s not a victim, she has a family that supports her
If she could find the strength after thirty years
Married under a church and steeple, for best or for worst
Well what about her best? her Worst?
What about his decaying health?

Someone just walk away
Is there anything worth saving?
Besides themselves?

Fingers trace

the crescent moon coffee stain
on the otherwise white napkin.

Nothing left
between us now
but donut crumbs.