confused convictions
carry so much weight
& grasp my neck with
a hard, hard squeeze.

being human is the hardest thing we do.
but to wish to be anything else,
whether four legs or two,
green eyes or blue,
i'd still be myself.

if knowledge is power,
and beauty is pain,
then she may as well
stay the same.

inside,
outside,
in between,
step back,
push ahead,
onward.

happens outside
when you work
on the interior.

Each and every inkling she had of needing space apart
quickly re-wired into needing more and more of his heart.

If a wood is quiet enough,
leaves falling from trees
sound like feet shuffling,
sneaking up behind me.

I ponder a fall morning.

With a shushed mind,
stark silent as this fall morning,
I can hear the whispers from within
telling myself the truth.