"God I hope i'm not wrong or doing anything bad by writing to you
directly. Jesus is cool but in prayers it just seems like religious red-
tape. I hope you're everything I hope you are. I hope that doesn't
insult you.

I've heard some pretty awful things.

I hope you're kind, and understanding, lighthearted but fierce.
Like a Dumbledore of sorts.

I hope you're the one that's making me sleepy. keep me from these
bad thoughts and protect me because I'm weak. Because you're every
ounce of strength I could ever hope to have."

So anxious I'm jumpy,
Internally deflated and still hoping.

So disappointed I don't want to care.
But if you came calling I'd still answer

in a heart beat.

Today while I was at work I saw a little girl grab some candy from the shelf and shake it in front of her mom to make sure she didn't forget to buy it. As she inched closer to the counter where I was scanning all of the items all I could see were the little girls eyes and the hands that hung on to the edge of the counter. She was so tiny and was still holding the candy in her hand, so excited. Liberated.

I don’t know why that made me so nauseous but all I knew was that this little girl was given a handful of years on this earth just like me. In that instant all I really wanted to do was stop time for this little girl that I knew absolutely nothing about and give her that opportunity to enjoy her candy bar to the very last crumb and let her lick clean the left-over smudged chocolate on her small fingers and small corners of her mouth.

I hope it pleases you to know that she did enjoy it, I didn't need to stop time for her to manage that. As kids, we don’t really have that extreme perception of time and maybe that’s what so beautiful about childhood and also what’s so tragic about what comes after.

I thought this girls whole life in a matter of seconds and I grew to appreciate that little girl. But she will never know this,  she will never know who I am, nor will she ever think of me again. But by the time she left the store I found myself hoping her life is everything she wants it to be.

Love is a recycled word,
used and resused in time and again.
Love like so is that of a chliche,
brief and ultimately unfelt.

It is through its brevity that
we discover that it is all but
what it says it is.

Love is instead chaotic,
that which blurred lines
between affection and hatred
fuse into one and engulf you whole.

No one understands this more
than the veteran lover.
Whose heart has been broken and
torn and kissed together all over again.

This is loves sweet embrace.
It is vicious, passionate, understanding,
and complete insanity.
It is the turmoil that can give us purpose.
It is the purpose that will give us turmoil.

And I surrender to it.

We're under the same sky
and it rains tonight.
Had I ever met you,
I'd wonder if it's lulling you to sleep.
Or keeping you awake.
tossing bed sheets to the ground
because it's hot.
Regretting it soon after
because you need a warm embrace.

Waking up in a heap of pillows,
covers and socks the next humid morning.
Forgetting to wash your face as you
walk outside.
You don't even bother to lock the door.

What sweet youth this is
to slowly wilt at eighteen.
Where in twenty years I will be
thirty-eight.
I wonder what my hands
will feel like then.

Rougher?
Softer?
Kinder, or maybe the exact
opposite?

How many paintings will they
have created by then?
How many countries would my
eyes have seen?
How many men would I have
chosen to lay with?
How many decisions would I
have taken?

How many things bought and broken.
How many of those will I save.
How many memories will I forget in
twenty years that now seem so
unforgettable.
Legendary.

How much of my life will I regret?
How much will be left by then?

To mend what I have broken.
To throw away what should not have been kept.
To take a pottery class and learn
how to finally mold myself.

To Remember.

It feels weird. Friendship.
Picking up where you left off with someone you didn’t think you could.
I wish I could be genuine, tell this person “hey, I missed you.”
I can’t.

Not because it would be a lie,
but because I miss me more.

I miss who I was a year ago
when I used to consider this person a friend for life.
Envision them by my side 10 years down the line,
with frequent visits to each others homes.
Scatter outings when our schedules allowed.

But now...
I can’t even tell if I’ll be around them tomorrow.

I used to pride myself in being a good friend.
Trustworthy,
Reliable.
Now I am as unpredictable as ever.
Fickle, even.

I make no promises,
so that I won’t break them.

I make no plans,
so that I won’t cancel them.

Being with myself is hard enough as it is
and I’d hate to ruin someone as pure,
genuinely happy,
generous,
and kind as you.

Forgive me if I’m distant.
I apologize for the lack
of comfort I provide.

The only thing I can say is that
I'll be staying a while,
and I hope that's okay.