One day,
there won't be a knock
or a call to announce where I am.
I'll walk across your ribs,
towards the light of your heart,
to a door that swings wide open
to a place where I am welcome,
a place that I've earned the right to be.

It takes courage to open your home
to someone.
Each room held up by boards
of trust.
your head, your mouth,
an attic filled with old memories,
fondled by silence,
as patient as you are.
I would never evoke your wrath.
As sturdy as those boards are,
I know they still creak,
eager to lash out.
Not in vain, but out of protection.

If one day that is the case,
I will accept it,
for it is not just your heart
but all of you that is my home.
And if something is broken,
we'll work to fix and repair
what is torn apart.

Here, in you, I am home.
And I will take care of every part
of you.
One day,
there won't be a knock
or a call to announce where I am,
because you'll already know.
I wouldn't accept your key
if I weren't absolutely sure
that I wanted to call you home

I sit here, posting, writing,
Yearning for attention,
Hoping for hearts I might earn
From the avid reader.

I check, and check, and check again—
Yet nothing takes effect.
My heart grows tender,
Dreaming of climbing stature,
But the steep hill looms impossible to capture.

Still, I post, still I write,
Determined to yearn and fight.

You're still on my mind
the way you taste, and the way  
you make me feel.  
The world moves fast,  
and soon, the time will be here again.  
Instead of a turkey,  
you've carved pieces of my heart  
and reminded me of all the things I've forgotten.  
The aches and pains that have taken  
over the empty spaces between  
the hands on the clock
work, bills,  
pieces of my most intimate self  
I've traded to sustain a living.  

You've carved these pieces of my heart,  
as savory as they can be,  
and fed them to me,  
showing me that the world isn't  
that miserable
regardless of the fake smiles in a  
fast-moving world.  
My favorite time of the year comes  
quicker, followed by my favorite  
season.  
Thank you for showing up,  
and allowing us to feast on the parts  
of ourselves we always seem to forget.  
Next year, this time will come around  
faster.  
Until then, I'll savor the way you taste  
and how good it feels to be around you

I sip you slow
morning, noon, and night.
Sugar and creamer take away
from how sharp you sting my lips.

The way I am easily lost in you.
You settle me, keeping me alert,
even in the moments
I’d rather do other things
or when I’m too lazy to get up.
Regardless of where I am,
you taste like home.
My throat and body
stained in your brand.

Even when I’ve had my fill,
when I see you, I am thirsty.
I hope you understand
that you’re not made for anyone’s
approval, not even mine.
You’re rough around the edges,
even bitter at times,
but these are reasons I love you more.
You’re completely yourself.
Their faces are too neat
for you anyway.

When I taste you,
I realize this is real,
and that this is mine.
When I taste you,
I taste you like you were brewed
just for me

Nothing fits right anymore,
like trying to walk in shoes three sizes too small.
I feel each step, my toes crumbled up,
crunched in the toe,
I walk crooked, trying to find any bit of relief.
But it’s never enough.
Tight in the places that matter most,
pinched and cramped, like the space you left behind.
The more I try to follow,
the more I feel like I'm in the wrong.

When I take them off,
I feel the ache of crooked blisters.
Red and bruised heels,
But I cannot walk around without shoes.
I understand that you can’t make everything in life work,
but that doesn’t stop me from trying.
These shoes drag the weight of good intentions,
and I trip over everything.

I’ve been to different stores,
but the shoes they offer fit too loose.
I try to walk, but the shoes don’t bend.
A normal five minute walk
expands into hours.
Too wide to make a complete trip
Without pain,
nothing fits right anymore
outgrown, worn, too tight.
Everyone points and laughs at a man
With shoes three sizes too small.
Who am I to chase

The weight of who I am without you sets in.
I am lost in a world without you.
All I have are these shoes that I cannot fill
without you

Loving you
Is as much an imprisonment
As it is a freedom.

Imprisoned by the thread of deep knowing
And shared experience...

Held captive by a longing heart -
Stuck in the memories of yesterday.

The ache of love is heavy in my chest,
Squeezing at my ribcage
Like a straitjacket.

The more i struggle for freedom,
The further entangled
I become...

For loving you
Is my life sentence.

It is the cage in which i now willingly sit,
Accepting my fate.
As the monk who sits in his cave -
I have made peace with my decree...

To be held,
In this love...

Forever.

I’m broken

The heaviness of expectation,
The overwhelming weight of it,
Has broken me.

The tension,
Pulling me in too many directions -
Tight and unrelenting -
Has broken me.

The rupture is silent,
Like watching a vase fall,
Colliding with a tiled floor -
Shattering -
While you stand outside,
Watching through a window.

Debris flying,
Chaos ensuring,
Yet serene silence.

The type of rupture
You always keep inside.

Because if it is allowed out...

Who will care
For everyone else
Who is broken?

Who will clean up the debris?
Who will pick up the pieces,
And reassemble?

So for now,

The vase remains in pieces,
Placed together -
But not mended.

There is no time.

Except...

A broken vase,
Simply placed back together,
Cannot hold water.

It cannot fulfil
Its purpose.

Eventually,

The pieces will collapse...
The room will flood,
And everyone will drown.

I must mend.
I must repair.
I must become...
Whole,

Again.