stream of consciousness
carves a river, unknown -
ego takes a dive.

Twenty years, a lifetime in a breath,
Moments of joy, and trials that test.
A bond forged strong, yet time has shown,
Even the mightiest rivers carve new stones.

Love endured, though struggles grew,
As dreams were altered, plans askew.
Her strength once bright, now shadows cast,
A disability’s weight, a bond held fast.

Yet even love can feel the strain,
When one surrenders to endless pain.
Not by choice, but a path she’s known,
Leaving both to feel alone.

Then a spark ignited, a newfound fire,
A heart once dormant, now lifts higher.
Through your eyes, he sees the light,
A soul reborn, embracing life.

How can one not love a heart so dear,
Yet embrace the joy when new love's near?
Breaking free, not out of disdain,
But to dance in sunlight after the rain.

Steps may falter, but strength is alive,
Together you flourish, together you thrive.
Honoring the past, yet forging ahead,
Two souls united, where happiness spreads.

Let me tell you a story:
A life unfolds, layered and vast,
Haunted by shadows, shaped by the past.
A spirit resilient, striving to be strong,
Carrying burdens we’ve all borne too long.

Dreams of creating, of tales untold,
A pen in hand, a heart seeking gold.
Yet whispers of doubt, relentless and slight,
Echo, "You’re not enough," in the still of the night.

Through love and loss, through joy and pain,
We weather storms, again and again.
Our hearts, battlefields; our minds, a maze,
Still searching for beauty in shadowed haze.

Families fracture; the pieces retreat,
Strength is forged where chaos meets defeat.
The yearning for love, for something secure,
A place where our souls might finally endure.

Our voices speak of longing, of finding our way,
Of nights spent alone, of hopes for the day.
Shadow work deepens; truths come to light,
Healing old wounds in the quiet of night.

We love with hearts both tender and fierce,
Though doubts linger on, and old wounds pierce.
In small, quiet moments, joy does reside—
A sunrise, a friend, a pet by our side.

We seek no labels, no rigid mold,
Just freedom to live, to grow, to unfold.
We are not broken; we are wonderfully real,
Tapestries woven of all that we feel.

Our stories are ours, messy and bright,
Dances between darkness and chasing the light.
Though questions remain, we’re carving our way,
Souls ever growing, day by day.

Come and take a walk with me
On a summer's eve so bright,
Smell the honeysuckle bloom
Beneath the fading light.
Tell me how you laugh and cry,
What stirs your heart, what makes you sigh,
Speak of dreams you hold inside,
And perhaps I'll share the ones I left behind.

Come and take a walk with me
Through autumn's fleeting glow,
Feel the crisp and cooling air
As time begins to slow.
Tell me all you hoped to be,
The things you sought so endlessly.
Let me show you what you'll learn,
Through every loss and twist and turn.


Come and take a walk with me
On winter's frozen ground,
We won’t be long—just take my hand,
No need to linger 'round.
Share your life in quiet tones,
No need to make a sound,
I’ll match your peace with calm my own.
Perhaps you'll glimpse beyond my gloom,
And see who hides within this room.

Come and take a walk with me
As spring begins to sing,
Tell me of the love you’ve found,
The joy your future brings.
Speak of family, wedding days,
The dreams you've shaped in tender ways.
I’ll listen close, with no disdain,
For the life I lost won’t cloud your gain.
And as you go, just softly say,
Remember me, my very own name, for you and I are always the same.

dined with companions,
who could not care less.
went along for the ride with half a heart,
i confess -
sung a word of praise, or two -
for it’s like a game of chess;
chose my words carefully,
not trying too hard to impress.

i could not keep their company for long -
would not keep lying still - it was wrong;
gave up their lives, in a moment of truth -
raked my soul, all winterlong.  

kissed goodbye to the daylight, i -
gave it up for a different kind of nightlife;
believed - solitude was an inmate,
with a hidden jackknife;
turns out - solitary confinement
is but an oxymoron of life.

She is the poem I never wrote,
but always wanted to write.
The poem I’d sit down with,
every intention of writing,
but could not come up with
the right words.
Sweet, but fierce.
Discarding perfection,
only asking for presence.
A flower that learned to survive
in a drought.

She is a poem that takes
the pieces of herself and
arranges them in love.
Not the loving pieces easily
found in the light
that’s too easy.
But the pieces that accidentally
wandered in the dark and got lost.
The pieces of herself she forgot
were there.
She takes her time,
finding these pieces and putting them
back where they belong.

When she speaks,
her tongue is like a hammer,
hammering every nail that needs
to be put into place.
Even if she misses and, instead,
hits her hand,
she doesn’t tear everything down
regardless of how much it may benefit her.
She repositions herself
and starts again.

She is the poem I never wrote,
but always wanted to write.
As hard as it is to start again,
she’s never afraid to start again

i look at you -
long and hard;
strike one off
the tally card -
of false promises,
and dubious words;
i peck your bud,
and fly like a bird.

i draw the line,
and watch it fade:
every second
you and i are away -
from each others grips,
coming down the trips -
i wonder if there was
another way.

smoke rings rising
up the clock -
show me the times
i forgot to lock:
my impulse for a high;
i’m not sure why -
i was expecting a key
at the bottom of the rock.

i’ve done it again -
i know not why.
with tethered wings,
i sought to fly:
my feathers dye crimson
in the grips of disquiet;
a sworn enemy now,
though once an ally.

i fight the urge
to be myself.
yet, sometimes -
i get overwhelmed
by a sense of futility,
so strong, and lovely;
i’d trade the world for,
and all its wealth.

i hurdle through life
with a beacon un-flamed -
a blackbird through seasons,
with a spirit untamed.
i urge for someone to
light the torch,
so i may sew - the
verses i maimed.

and though i’m weary -
but not for worse;
i must prepare to die again.
tonight, i chase the truth -
for tomorrow -
i must lie again.