Don’t  
         blame him.  
        Don’t blame  
      her.
Not for the  
     betrayal, not for  
   walking      away.  

       The heart,  
          is  
     a world of  
     changing weather.  

           And  
         people?  
        They dress  
    for the storm  
          they  
          feel.  

      You were  
        summer,  
     they felt cold.  

      You were sun,  
   they longed for shade.  

         Don’t  
       blame them.  

      Even skies  
      can’t hold  
  one season forever.

I'm no longer fighting to be enough.
No longer shrinking to fit small spaces,
Twisting my truth to earn a place.
Iam walking
Towards what already knows Iam light
Toward love that doesn't demand my silence,
Toward peace that doesn't ask me to bleed.

Never try to understand everything,
Some things are stars,
Meant only to be watched
From the safety of wonder.

Some silences are whole poems,
Too fragile to carry with words
Some people are seosons
You don't ask them to stay,
You only learn to bloom
After they have gone.

There are moments folded in shadows,
Where time forgets to ask for reason
And in that quiet,
We find the space to breathe
Without the weight of knowing.

And so I let the questions rest,
Like leaves released to the wind
Knowing some truths
Are meant to live quietly,
Beyond the reach of my grasp.

The electrifying thrill
of dancing in the rain.
Elevates to waltzes on a lightning bolt,
When shackles break away.

Puddles surfaces rip open,
As I drown my half-smoked cigarette,
Underneath wide flooded struts.
Little frigid shower vapors
Tickle my chilled lungs.

Lace the coffee mugs with poison,
In about a month from now.
Tonight's story is for polaroids
Showcasing soaked sundresses,
And pressed chamomile flowers.
Glued onto ripped journal pages,
Between crudely drawn storm clouds.

Nasty forecast promised for tomorrow
Toxic droplets called to fall on my side of town.
But no shiver rattles my bones
From threats of acidic kisses.
At this moment, I've remembered,
How to let the sting of venom go.

Some departures we choose,
and some departures are forced upon us—
They arrive with the weight of mountains,
practiced in hesitant steps,
as if dragging the entire world behind us.
We move forward a little... then glance back a little,
for behind us lie things, dreams, souls,
to which our hearts remain tethered.

They said,"If it's meant to be ..."
And I believed it ,not as a promise,
Bt as quiet understanding:
That love cannot be chased,
And fate is not a thing you beg for.

So I stopped waiting.
I became the rescue,
The solace,
The steady.

And if it's meant to be,
Let if find me whole ,
Not waiting,
Bt living.