i met you in the middle of august
during the death of summer
but the birth of my life
the leaves were just beginning to turn
the shade of mustard
of my favorite yellow
the specks of gold inside the dog of my childhood
and you were a melancholy prince
a monsoon of everything I was always too busy looking elsewhere for
always on the cusp
now before my eyes it was terrifying  
I was too busy in my own sadness
always teetering on the verge of the roof
more mosquito bite than girl
when they asked why I was always writing
what could I write about if I wasn't ever talking to people
no sensory experiences but the ones I imagined
a shyness of a body
a flushing fever of a person
how could I explain
spill onto the kitchen sink gripping strangers' shoulders
crying I was in love with everything
and could that be such a bad thing
I didn't want to be a wound
but there we were
stealing groceries from the store and never sleeping
inside a romantic cocoon
I would go anywhere with you
be your favorite friend
a favored nervousness inside the pit of your amygdala
if you wanted me to

Do not judge me by my appearances; hard may be soft and happy may be sad. A rich heart may lie under a poor coat and bring you into a joy you could only imagine possible. A chance taken an oppertunity missed, a life lived or one saved for its end. We are where we put ourselves and where we allow ourselves to wonder. I love you alone, with a richness I must have found in a life I was saving

Perfection

     Is an imperfection.


An imperfection is

        A unique beauty.


We are all beautiful

      With are uniqness.

Everyone is pretty rare
In their own special way.

You will find NO ONE
exactly like me
And I will find NO ONE
like you either.

Our personalities
cannot be copied
and pasted.
God didn’t make it that way.

Why do some people still try
To be like another?

We all have our faults
No one is perfect
But that does not mean
We must shape ourselves to be like others.

We must shape ourselves to be BETTER
not perfect
not someone else
Just BETTER.

A tree still grows
Without being another tree.
We can be better
Without being someone else.

Because it’s ok
To be a better person
In your own way.

It’s ok to be rare.

You know, it's funny
We never anticipate the ways
We're gonna isolate ourselves
From the ones we care about