She doesn't like it-
When I buy her meals,
She wants to pay for me instead.

And she doesn't know-
That my every thought,
Is her running through my head.

She makes me weak-
When she hugs me tight,
Hannah, baby, I'll always love you,
Every day, every night.

She is my princess,
My darling love-
The blood in my veins,

She is my mirror,
My armor, shield,
She keeps away the pain.

She makes me strong,
When she stands beside,
Hannah, baby, I'll hold you up,  too,
Against the coming tide.

She Loved Him
In that Place
Where Only The Soul
Knows The Secrets
Of The Heart

My identity is found in Christ,
the son of God who rose to life
overcoming death.

The one who sacrificed himself for you and me,
so that we could be free from sin and guilt.

He is not a distant figure,
he does not tempt or lead me astray.
He gives me a reason to smile,
cheering me up on my saddest days.

I love celebrating every moment with him,
like when my Mum became a Christian.

Sometimes I doubt, and I feel stupid when I do,
because God always comes through.

I am not perfect and I constantly make mistakes,
but he is still there
loving and holding me.

He is the peace after a storm and a strong wind
all at once.

I try to follow Jesus' example every day,
through my actions and what I say.
I want to accept and love others,
despite what they do to me.
Just as Jesus loved those who sent him to die.
He suffered so much so that we could have eternal life.


My identity is found in Christ, the son of God,
and a friend for all of time.

i am becoming whole with a cause and he made me believe that there was a reason for everything. i met him in this life, two weeks after i couldn’t fasten the rope in my basement, two desks to the left, one back. quiet boy with soft smile, head down, leg tapping. picture me one desk up, two desks to the right unknowingly sitting metres away from the truest human being i would experience thus far. the human being who would introduce me to new genres of music, run through sprinklers with me, sit talking for hours smoking full packs of cigarettes, walk through forests, introduce me to genuinely hilarious people and help me experience the true beauty of not being okay. the human being jealous of music and the broken people that made it. the boy like his father; or so he tells me every time he’s drunk. stop looking in the mirror, trying to find darkness where there is none. light another cigarette, we’re all going to die someday. drown in your own self hatred, the water’s warmer in the deep end and i’ll help you keep your head above the water if you promise to float beside me when the sun rises again. once he said he’d **** himself in every universe he experiences without me and yes maybe so but even with me in his universe i wonder if he means it when he agrees that we should stay. i hope he stays. sweaty-palmed handshakes, aching and aching he is as soft as the skin beside his eyes when he smiles. why try to act so sharp edged when your heart is made from all things gentle? passionately broken record boy, repeating the same things over and over again under the influence with undertones of love for others. the love he’s unable to show towards himself. i see the way his shoulders curve downwards on the worst days, trying to make himself smaller to fit inside some new definition of “lovable”. the only person to ever tell me i was easy to love and prove it. i don’t know if i’ve ever thanked him for that. passionately broken record boy, appreciating my art and leaving me to wonder if the words we’ve shared after midnight had the same effect on his heartbeats as they have had on mine. sometimes he looks at me innocently but not so innocently because i’m sure he’s held my gaze long enough to see everything i’ve been hiding. i’m never really sure if he’s joking or not. about life and love and wanting to die. i want to tell him i love him in the way i love every person i’ve ever lost, like i sleep with my shoes on in case there comes a night i have to chase after him. he is the sum of everyone he has ever loved minus the drug addictions and prostitutes and stab wounds. it scares me that despite cold skin his presence keeps me warm and i am warm, i am warm, i am warm. i have never felt so warm and secure and void of anxiety within a friendship before and maybe him entering my life as carelessly and beautifully as he did was one of the reasons for everything. i genuinely believe it was.

passionately broken record boy. i didn’t meet him in the past life, two weeks after i fastened the rope in my basement, two desks to the left, one back. quiet boy with soft smile, head down, leg tapping. picture an empty chair. one desk up, two desks to the right, never having the chance to know the truest human being i would’ve experienced thus far. an empty space of a person he knew of but never knew.

but in this life i did have the chance. i got to know HIM, not just a tragic biography. not just a tragic suicide told enthusiastically by those who ached to follow. i knew him. i know him. five months after i couldn’t fasten the rope in my basement we were staring into the stars in comfortable silence and i finally believed that there was a reason for everything. i am becoming whole with a cause and the cause is him.

For my first born daughter
Motherhood began with you
I didn't know what love was
Till I looked into your eyes of blue
Always know that I love you
And I'm proud your part of me
I'll always try to protect you
Even when we disagree

For my middle daughter
This one is for you
You showed me unconditional
And that love can really be true

For my youngest daughter
beyond your years so smart
you will always be my baby
and my monkey wonderheart

I think its important
for those you love to know
just how much they mean to us
so I'm giving it a go
I wrote this for my girls
so they know how much they mean
I want them to know how loved they are
Even when there being a stroppy teen.

(C) Julie Murphy