Are you familiar with the phrase, "Looks like your mom dressed you?"
That’s what I see when I look at you
Not because of the clothes, but because of the care.
And that’s what makes me love you the most.

I show it in how much I care.
I offer to buy you lunch when I know you’ve had a long day.
And still, you have the energy to talk to me the way you do
The way you make me feel like I am family.

Your words are a comfort you don’t realize I need.
And while there’s nothing wrong with Mom,
Babe, your dad raised you right.
He taught you that the world is tough
That to get a single thing you want,
You have to go through so much.
And still, you tell yourself that everything is going to be okay.
I know because I live it, and it’s easy to see.
Babe, you carry your father’s strength.

You love me protectively.
You make space for me.
You save room for me.
It’s rare to find a woman like you.
Every time you leave,
I’m already waiting to see your face again.

I love the way you were raised

I want to sink
And lose myself 600 ways in you
Losing myself in how you feel,  
How you smell.
A softness that doesn't fray
Between the heat  
Shared between you and me,  
It doesn't wrinkle.  
It doesn't crease.  

It's not a traumatic response  
From any part of your or my journey.  
You breathe against me
The kind of comfort that trust  
Cannot put into words.  
Unrushed. Patient.  
The way home should feel.

Before true happiness,  
I stretch and unwind  
In your quiet
Twisting and turning,  
My face pressed into how  
Warm you are.  
When I lay on you,  
I don't want to get up.  
I want to lay here and dream,  
Far from the suffocation  
That exists away from you.  

No matter how rough I am,  
Compared to your softness
This goes beyond material reality
Where hands and feet  
Don't have to beg for rest.
They just are.

There are no wrinkles in how you love,  
In the way you unfold and spread yourself.  
Eventually,  
Love doesn’t stay young forever.  
It matures in its openness.  
In this, there is surrender.  
I am consumed in you
No longer twisting,  
No longer turning,  
But at peace.
Whether I am closing my eyes
Or opening them.
I am glad that you're here

The heart shaped piggy bank
rolled down the street.
You waited until the door was open
and then rolled right out.
I slid my last dollar in,
building towards something more
something more than paper-thin
ambition,
a future that includes you,
in some shape or form.

I don’t know how you fell,
or how you got down from the shelf.
Better a dollar bill
than my hand stuck inside you.
I’m glad you didn’t break.
I fed you all my dreams,
all my ambitions.
It’s no wonder you didn’t explode
when you hit the ground,
waiting for something real

Streetlights hum a lullaby
to neon dreams.
Cracked pavement blooms
with graffiti roses.

My heart, a tangled vine,
unfurling in the dark.
Too many words unsaid,
a choked-back symphony.

Phone screen glows,
a cold comfort.
Another night adrift
in the digital sea.

But somewhere, a connection flickers.
A shared breath,
a whispered "me too."

Maybe tomorrow,
the static will clear.
Maybe tomorrow,
we'll find our bloom.

Let your ink spill like tears,
And pour out your emotions.
Let it drip the stories untold,
In the most exquisite motions.

Weave your characters,
Intertwine their Fates.
Sew you chapters,
With emotional paints.

Bind the spine,
With the ingredients
Of fine wine
Then let the reader digest

Regret melts slow,
dripping from the side.
It feels like skin being tugged against,
the impression left from
my hand to yours.
The anticipation of being patient
burns and flickers,
excitedly proud to be included.

Your back, the wick that stands straight,
slowly curving,
stretching, releasing tension.
Your legs wrapped in mine.
If you were to blow too hard,
the flame would whoosh,
leaving nothing but a puddle.
The people we were
staring, looking at the mess.

The rest of my strength
supports your arch,
the curled wick that's grown tired
against my chest.
No matter how you lay,
I am comfortable in your wild stretch.
Sleep surrounding both of us—
I have your back, your heart.
The crisp edges of your hair tangled
On my head

The smoke of desire soots and breathes,
dried in a puddle of wax

In a world where we feel forsaken and abandoned,
A barren land bleaked with loneliness, forgotten, forlorn
A life so hopeless and full of desolation.
A whole generation plagued by an epidemic called depression.

An illness that took the lives of many.
Yet still misunderstood, dismissed as laziness aplenty.
Loving parents lose daughters and sons,
Still no cure, incomprehensable not even one can understands.

They've scoured books, devoured dictionaries, seeking words to describe how they really feel,
Yet none can mend a soul like them, too broken to heal, too shattered to fix it still.

But then you came, a beacon so bright,
on this dim and narrow path I called life,
A glimmer of hope in a world so dark, where it all seems filled with wrath and strife.

Be strong and make sure to guard your light,
Growing it ever more intense —impairing a sight,
Let it shine brighter than any stars and sun,
Help them light up their way till the darkness around them are gone.
For souls that dwells in void like mine,
I cherished the warmth it gives and provides,
In a world not built for us to live, rather just merely for us to survive.

Yet remain cautious of those who'd dim your glow,
Leaving you cold, it's unkind — I know.
But keep your flames burning with passion,
Nurture it, share it wisely like a precious ration,
For your light is a beacon of hope,
Guiding those lost in darkness, away from ending their lives hanging on a rope.

One day my daughter will ask me why,
Her gaze will pierce like the evening sky.
"Why don't you believe in God, my dear?"
I’ll answer softly, voice tinged with fear.

"There was a time when faith held me tight,
Its whispers soothed through the longest night.
But wounds I bore were too deep to hide,
And doubts grew strong as the pain inside."

"Perhaps, one day, His grace will descend,
To heal the cracks no soul could amend.
For now, I tread where the shadows cling,
Hoping for dawn that new light might bring."

"Each heart must walk through its trial alone,
A fragile rhythm, a muted tone.
Some rise with strength, while others will fall,
Yet none escapes their own curtain call."

"Christ taught of love, a warm, endless stream,
A truth that glows like a vivid dream.
If hunger strikes, give bread to the lost,
And love without counting the painful cost."

"Beware of those who twist sacred words,
Who wound with tongues as sharp as swords.
Let kindness guide, like a steady flame,
Not bitter blame or a hollow name."

"And so, my child, wherever you go,
My heart will follow, its light will show.
Through storm or calm, I’ll steady your way,
Cheering the paths you choose every day."

"It's fine to fear, but learn this at last:
Monsters will fade, their shadows recast.
Keep faith alive, a lantern to guide,
And love will stand as your truest tide."

As for me, I wander rough terrain,
Each step a balance of hope and pain.
But every scar holds a hidden glow,
And whispers paths where the soul can grow.

She stands in the shower.
Running her wash cloth across
Her body.
the slow rise of *******,
the arch of hips,
the curve of a neck.
The day she's had
Swirls around the drain
Between the space of her toes.
All that's left is the smell of soap.
Against her skin.
Her washcloth is not as white as it was.
She lets out a sigh.
Letting the hot water crash
Against her body.
Ringing it out before 
Soaping up the rag again.
Her body becoming softer.
Erasing every touch, every stare
That isn't her own.
Vigorously scrubbing.
The remnants of soap drip
Down her legs.
I knock on the door before
Poking my head in to check on
Her.
She hangs her head out with a smile.
The smell of soap and water
Glisten off of her light skin.
Before she closes the curtain back,
I ask if she needs help washing her
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