There’s a God who enflames.
He puts fire in the head
and though I have run, the wind
has never extinguished the flames,
though I have swum, the depths
have never doused them,
though I have sung long,
the music has never drowned them out.

So I have sat and I stilled
and as the flames settled
I found they were a gift, a friend,
and that this friendship warmed me.
And we ate and storied
our way through the nights.

And the flames took hold
as intended.

This is the one, I whisper low,
Ink on the page with a steady glow.
My pulse is sure, my spirit proud,
I post it up, above the crowd.
Done.

Two days pass in silent scroll,
A single like—a softened toll.
My thoughts return, both sharp and terse:
Maybe this was my best… or worst.

Again I write, the spark feels dim,
The words fall out, a clumsy hymn.
I roll my eyes, ashamed to send
A piece I’d never recommend.
Done.

Two days pass—my phone alights,
The piece is trending, shared in flights.
The one I thought was shallow, weak,
Spoke truths another couldn’t speak.

The weight is held in different ways,
Some see the sun, some feel the haze.
What’s “best” is tied to where we are,
Some feel the storm, some chase the star.

So now I write with open hands,
No more demands or strict commands.
Each piece, a gift I can’t control,
May miss one heart and reach a soul.

And when I post, I don’t deride—
The worth’s not always mine to decide.
For passion’s voice, though sometimes low,
Still finds a place it’s meant to go.

no revenge
only a copy of the poems i wrote of my side of our story
and a bag of the food i’d bought for you
and my perfume on your hoodie, that i was wearing when you ended it
and a sense of loss that lingers

I was given a gift, a tender thing
A heart that knew the songs to sing.
So full of love, so soft, so true,
It held a cure the cold once knew.

It cost me more than I could pay,
Yet still, I chose to give that way.
To thrive, it needed hearts as kind,
With gentle hands and quiet minds.

I wandered far through souls and faces,
Through empty halls and crowded places,
To find a heart that dared to feel,
To break, not hide behind what’s real.

But all I found were sharpened minds,
With pride and reason intertwined.
They saw its cracks, they mocked its beat
Too soft to win, too quick to bleed.

Each time it met a colder flame,
It broke in ways I couldn’t name.
I tried to guard it, held it tight,
But it was born to lose that fight.

And then I saw, with aching eyes,
That I, too, judged it, cold and wise.
I weighed it not in love, but thought,
And killed the grace that can't be taught.

A gift too pure for minds so keen,
It dimmed where coldest thoughts had been
So in the dark, I dug a grave,
For all the love I couldn’t save.

And there it sleeps beneath my chest
A precious gift, laid down to rest.

As much as this is a gift,
It is a curse all the same.
Speaking in the tongue of thought,
I seem to think it all,
And I want to speak it all.

Although I wish each time a star passes by,
I still lay silent.
Stolen from my chance to speak,
Is there a way to say this where it'll be heard,
All of it, not just the gems.