When I crashed my bike in the driveway,
She was there.
When I fell out of the tree and busted my wrist,
She was there.
When my first love broke my heart into a million pieces,
She was there.
When my dog, my first pet, my best friend, had to be put to sleep,
Still, She was there.

Through every injury,
every heart break, and heart ache;
Through every day that left me behind,
and the problems that were always on my mind;
She was always there.

Now that I have grown
become the person she always wanted for me to be,
Now I know,
that I am here.
I am here for her
Like she was always there for me.

For you, mother, I will do anything.
For you today, I say this:
Happy Mother's Day, I love you with all my heart.

“I have not been drinking wine or beer; I was pouring out my soul to the Lord.”

To be intoxicated by strong drink (within the moment) what a pleasure and delight it is; to let go, give up, and pour out your soul to our holy and loving Father, what can compare? Jesus reminds us that His burden is easy and His yoke is light, when you confess the bitterness in your heart, or the other evils that are sure to lurk, the heaviness of this world begin to lift off your shoulders, you are free.

Hannah, like us, must have been stubborn. For years she would go to the house of the Lord and weep. Year after year Hannah would give most of what she had to God but not all. It was only when she could take it no more, that she finally gave all to God, as the widow did for Elijah. The one thing she wanted, was the one thing she didn't have, and was the last thing God wanted from her.

I am from the starless sky.
From comforting blankets and warm cups of tea.
I am from the warm and quiet, the sometimes cold and stiff.
From the always filled with laughter.
The memory filled air, bright colors fuse.
It was dark silk, that I could not see.
I am from the form of a willow tree, perhaps the scent of a pine tree; the gentleness of a daffodil and the elegance of a tulips petals.
Wallowy branches of the willow tree, ***** scent of it's bark, the wiltedness of its form.
I'm from the gathering of family, greeting as if we were strangers, where sometimes we are separated
From Sharon and Covington, and the Hills'.
I'm from the bright flames in our chests.
From you are your own, and you hold the power.
I'm from the thought of something bigger, but never weighing my heart down.
I'm from mixed races, ones of different traditions. From the hardworking Africans, the dignified Caucasian, the intelligence of Asians. And many more
I am from life lessons, influences, bad memories, and the joy that some days have.
I am from what I dream to be, what I build myself to be.
I am me.

I see you at my door,
huddled against the night
in your Kermit-green jacket
and purple pants
like a refugee from a rainbow.
Patiently waiting
for my enfolding arms,
to spirit you upstairs
for flannelette passion
which makes us feel safer
than the safest ***.

I'm laughing.

I don't know. I really need to laugh. Maybe because of the overwhelming sadness? But then I started to sink, slowly, kneeling on the floor. My shoulders shake, from uncontrollably fast to the pace of my beating heart. My hair falls in front of my face, hiding its ashen appearance. I'm torn. Cliché moment, I know. Someone tried to move, maybe to comfort me. My mouth opens before I can stop it.

"Stop. Don't move."

They know me as the girl who's always happy, doesn't get affected by their rudeness, has a lot of patience, and always smiling. It's actually really easy to act happy all the time. But, the sad thing about it is that they will never ever take me seriously. They'll only approach me if they need something. I seriously regret having put a mask on, to hide my true self. My goal was to make the people around me happy. I'm a clown, I guess. Nobody takes a clown seriously. Me, a clown.. a very emotional, pistanthrophobic clown.

--

Like always, Grace never can get it straight, as the girl from wonderland wonders if wondering is her fate. But here she is quoting love songs as if she truly understands them. For once, maybe she does. There’s a swelling in her chest and butterflies in her head and everything is all cabobbled in a cacophonous mess that she cannot comprehend.

The furthest distance she’s ever known was her head to her heart, they never seemed to work in tandem. One would act, another would scold, making her wary to be impulsive when it came to love. She had been hurt more times than she could count, and that unfathomable account made her fearful. From her head to her heart, it seemed like she was doomed to always run away.

Then you came along.

No doubt, the poor girl wanted to run the second she felt a hint of emotion towards you. There was many a time she could feel her heart starting to turn, starting to flee, away from everything she had ever been frightened by and all the love in her heart that had been rejected.

You scared her.

She looked into your eyes and knew your logical head and stubborn heart were things she could fall for, things so very unlike her that she could admire them, want them, love them. Between her flittering heart and emotional mind, she needed someone like you, and she knew it. But she also knew you could break her, and she could break you, and breaking had been done enough through years of falling through windowpanes.

For a good while, she resisted you. She tried not falling for you, she tried to not make it serious. Yet then you looked into her eyes hundreds of miles away and told her to not be afraid to fall for you. And what did she do that second?

Well, that scared little girl fell. She fell hard.

Ever since the age of four she was always a strong young woman externally, while her innards were stunted to that scared little girl who never could let go. It broke her, melted her, molded her into the woman you love today. Or girl. Depends on the day.

Beware, for you hold that scared little girl in your hands. She no longer holds that part of herself internally; it and her heart are now yours. You dared her to fall; she did. You begged with your eyes for her to stay; she did. You smiled and tricked her into those three terrifying words; I love you. But your daring and begging and tricking are things she does not abhor you for, rather, she loves you more because of it. Because only a lovable thief could steal such an iron locked heart.

There it is, master burglar. She loves you deeply and you have caught your prize, the safeguarded heart that many before thought they could lock pick. Never knew kicking down the door was an option, but you made it one.

So what are you going to do with it? I pray you hold it close to your ear, hear her whisper her love over and over again, hold it close to your mind, feel her feel the deepest way you will ever feel, and hold it so close to your own heart that you can acknowledge they share beats. Goodness knows she’s known for some time.

As you fall asleep before her, like you do every night, I hope your subconscious can feel her kiss your cheek and her confidently terrified voice say how much she loves you. She’d name the stars after your eyes but your eyes are too loving to be so far away. And even when the waters get rough, and the seas get salty, and the games get brutal, think of that occasional nighttime ritual you never knew about and hear her whisper silently,

*I love you

This large and wide world of ours is                                                                         Painful,gloomy,dark,and absurd                                                                               Simply because we sometimes don't                                                                           Understand things around us anytime ...                                                                   We either don't understand our world                                                                        Or our current do not understand us ...                                                                     We are boiling from inside and we're                                                                           Not appearing very-well from outside ...                                                                       If we go south ,then our compass directs                                                                      Itself north and we get lost in all directions ...                                                           It's difficult to understand a world like                                                                        Ours simply because everything is vague in it ...                                                   We are living in great ordeals that extends                                                               From our births to our deaths straightforward ...                                                     We live in death while we're alive and we die                                                            In life while we're in that long oblivion anytime ...                                                    We're greatly cornered in everything in our                                                            World simply because that's the way anytime ...                                                  ___________________­__

This, no one can ever take away from me
Though I know you are gone
This, I know, they cannot take away from me


When your gaze had a sort of sweetness to it
When your eyes swirl because you were looking at me
When your silence did not matter, just as long as we were together

How can I give this away?

The bitter taste of firsts, now gone
And love thirsts for the same one.

How can I give this away?


.....
I can't
....
I can't seem to--
...
The things you said, with so much passion you lead
me on into the Woods,
into the Valleys,
into the Cities where I thought I would never be.

You took me away,
led me astray
loved me until daylight til' you left.
You left and left and left and you were gone.







They tell me to give up.
And so does my heart.
"You two were always apart
from the very start," they say.
"I know," I reply.



"I know."



The silhouette of you,
the essences you dressed up in
The heart you pulled out of yourself to show me you meant everything....


This, no one can ever take away from me
Though I know you are gone
This, I know, they cannot take away from me

the moment I wake up, my room is shaking.
It's 7 o' clock and the kid that got arrested again last week,
is blasting EDM downstairs, and my walls
are reverberating.
My walls are always reverberating.
I've lived in this ancient building since I can remember.
My consciousness began in a blue apartment.
We've only moved once, and its was to the other side.
I roll out of bed and head straight for the fridge.
There's some rice and beans from this haitian lady-
my mother's only friend.
They don't really understand each other,
but they're always exchanging food.
I take a plastic spoonful.
It's really salty.
I eat it cold while looking out the window in my living room,
my sweatpants are hiked up to my knees,
and my robe is hung loose around me.
I pull the blinds up high.
I lived on main street all of my life, but it's not too busy of a town,
so there aren't many cars.
I look across the road, to the art gallery that was just built
under existing residents.
That's cool
Too bad the owners are racist *****,
that would assume I was a muslim if I were to walk in.
Probably tell me to leave because they're closed,
when they aren't.
They told my friend, Mo, that.
He doesn't even practice.
I wonder if anyone else is looking out
of their windows at this hour.
Perhaps at me, and my disheveled morning appearance.
There must be a rave going on downstairs.
When it wasn't the laundromat it was this kid's
insufferable music choice.
Or the crack-fiends cries for money on the stoop.
I usually lock myself in my room,
listening to the hiss of the heater.
My blue-light blocking glasses on,
I stare at my lap-top screen,
typing in a mildly passive-aggressive tone.
Complaints to the landlord aren't heard.
I've little sympathy for most passive- aggression.
But I guess the powerlessness
is where it stems from.
I've got to escape.