It's hard to be positive,
when all I see,
Are clouds and thunder following me,
I see the beauty within the storm,
It does not cure this feeling torn,
I've checked the linings,
Gold and silver,
I've burned these hands,
The ones that killed her,
I will not beg to be forgiven,
Not claim insanity in which I was driven,
I was a fool that loved too much,
That believed in dreams and date and such,
So don't carve my name in marble or stone,
I don't want to be remembered, when I'm gone.

Maybe I'm bitter towards anyone in love because I've never felt those feelings. I've never looked at somebody and wanted to spend the rest of my life with them. I've never met someone and knew that they were who I wanted to wake up to every morning. I've never had a boy talk to me and feel waves crash over me. I've never felt that the arms I was being held were the arms that I want around me every chance I get. I've never felt the type of connection with somebody that people "in love" feel. Maybe that's why I don't believe in love. And I think it's foolish. Maybe I'll understand one day.

I could blame
the moon
for taking Conrad
away
after all isn't
the moons
draw enough
to attract any
college student from
their room
but how can you
stay mad
at
the moon
when all it does is
light the
night
sky.

It takes time to not choose ignorance or bitterness.
It takes time to choose not to be desolate.
Most don't have the longevity, or the patience.
I'll look out hoping to find those stories of redemption;
I'll hope to be objective for a second.

Out there I'll find the truth in here.
In loving my neighbor, in giving, and praying.
In practice I'll find truth.
In tight-lipped, strength-inducing, liturgy.
I have little faith.
But I'll be what I was created to be
regardless of what feels right "naturally".
For truth I will choose.

I am daughter.
I am sister.
I am friend.
And one day, maybe,
I'll be a counter-part again.

I've had to wait and see
if my love will return to me.
He's gone to the garden,
marching around it's walls.
Thinking on all he's lost.
Streams he used to swim,
and trees he used to climb.
He remembered where he named the deer,
why and when.
He thinks on his old life often.
And I don't know if i'll ever see him
like I did when we first met.

My mother, Eve, was never without Adam.
But I've been without him.
I still don't understand.
Created for experience of
both design and collaboration.

By the one true story,
and by all the insane little stories that happen in between.
I am daughter.
I am sister.
I am friend.

It takes time to not choose ignorance or bitterness.
It takes time to choose not to be a desolate woman.

Sometimes to gauge a situation and get a clear perspective you need to turn away from proximity