All things buckle when given into fear.
Be who you are.
Be who you are.
Be who you are.

because my heart is strong
but my head is loose.

there's no other toxic love
than the wind and rain,
except you and I,
we are the same.

Lip liner across our lips,
connect the dots between our hips.
Dotted lines divide the road,
sign the line where debts are owed.
Signed letters, cursive cards,
smoke lingers from stiff cigars.
Smoked out lines above our eyes,
count the trails of tears we've cried.

And now I am drawing the line with you,
erasing the previous lines we drew.

Give your time to a lady,
give your time to a gent.
The greatest gift you can give
is where your time is spent.

Respect a woman,
respect a child.
Respect a man,
respect the wild.

there's a tumbleweed ricocheting off the barren walls of my heart.
there's a tumbleweed rustling within the bleak walls of my brain.
I am breaking apart,
I am going insane,
No,
I simply am going.
I am going,
I am gone.

It wasn't my plan to house a barren land
within my heart, you see.
As I walked all year, and fell in love,
everything was slowly taken from me.

It wasn't my plan to store a broken voice
within my throat, you see.
As I spoke all year, and shared my love,
I realized you never listened to me.

And now my feet are covered in dust,
it's desert in my mind and heart,
I am left behind, sad and lost,
but it's now that you want to restart.

Do flowers have the choice to grow?
Do we choose? Do you know?
Do branches have the choice whether to bend of break?
Is this life's course? Is it too much to take?
Does the wind choose when to blow?
Does it get to choose when to stand still?
Do leaves drop at their own free will?
Do trees long to age past our time?
Where are answers to these questions of mine?

Look inside, look around.
From Earth to sky back to the ground.

My body is slowly awakening with pins and needles.
My mind is conscious with memories reeling the good in reverse while the bad forces itself forward, jamming my heart, body and soul with the truth.  
I am light. I am floating. Yet I am heavier than the air around me. Afloat with hope bound to be punctured.
I exist through the motions of my day, clawing for healing, love and strength.

December is like trudging through each weekend's heavy snowfall
And I'm sitting here aching, awaiting the healing, awaiting your call.

December is like hanging onto a rope too tightly,
When I loosen my grip, you tug again, nightly.

December has me at the end of a yo-yo string,
You drop me and I bounce between yes's and no's that sting.

December did not bring happy holidays this year,
I'm forcing smiles through the inevitable cheer.

December is my broken my heart, a heavy snowfall,
I'm aching, I'm healing, I'm forgetting your call.

my breath sends clouds back to the sky
while bitter winds pull tears from my eyes.

I would take to the lake.
Try to clear my head.
Think.
My boy, he liked coral pink.
And oh did his heart sink.
I took to the lake.
Oceans were too far away.
We shifted and we swayed.
Not today.
Couldn't stay.

This boat we are in strikes an ebb and flow far too often and it feels old.
A day in the past made of gold is too heavy for me to hold, anymore.
So as not to drown, let's let go, let's learn to swim.

I am not an Extremist, I am hardly Feminist, I just am: and that's okay.  And I know that a public demonstration of kindness and love can have the same great effect as that done behind closed doors.

What should have always been by nature (loving, being kind, being humane, etc.) has seemingly become a phenomenon. It should have always been. Being. Existed and still existing. Acted upon and currently in action. But it's timed out and needs a refresh. Start here. Start now.

Make a sign if you want to, buy someone a meal, give someone a hug, tell someone you love them. Tell. Someone. You. Love. Them. Intermix and interlove. Love love love. Think, think, think. Care, care, care. Be loving, be thoughtful, be caring.

These elements are in our blood. When cut, blood turns red. Our veins? They show our blood: blue. But they are all the same blood in the end.

all she can take is for it to get better
and find a way to leave this behind.
her past self would run,
but there's always a reminder.
she can't put this behind her.
no,
no more.

there's always a reminder.
she can't put this behind her.
no,
no more.

my heart is broken,
as is yours.
i am in need of love,
as are you,
and you and you.

i am not okay because you are not okay.

you hold my heart, everyone one of you,
and it has always been this way.

i stand strong with the belief in hope,
i carry an open mind through the gray.

one day our smiles will stay,
but until the peace of that day,

my heart, alongside yours too, cries.
this is all that i can say.

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.

Some time had passed,
and she felt beneath her chin
a pool where tears had gathered
at the end of their streams.
Together. Still.
No longer flowing,
never falling,
simply there, defying gravity.

To say good-morning,
and to really mean it.
To say good day,
and feel it, too.
These are the things
I wish for myself,
but more so,
I wish for you.

Young woman.
Older girl?
The faint smell
of Ferris wheels swirl
your life upside down

Fleeting minds do not stray,
no,
instead, they lead the way.

She dancingly sways,
a tree, grown old,
draped in amber, in gold.

And while the wind wracks,
her skirt holds tight
until she deems fit,
losing her gown to Jack's
choice linens of white.

Now standing,
bare, taut skin,
a woody skeleton.

ethereal tones droning,
harmonious wings flap
harpooning the heart
into soprano skies.

My mind is a gray, churning sky,
hovering mist, fog.

Gin and juice,
she married the idea
of remaining strong.

My eyes are downcast
My ears are full of song
My mouth is ready
My nose exists
My hands are open

a feeler, sensitive,
& indifferent
all in one.
What a confusing
thing to be.

staring into each other's eyes
aloud, we would recite, "you."

and I’m okay with that.

Who ever said that serious couldn’t marry silly and become one.

I'll prove you false.

After all, I’m in the truest love.

I want to feel your nose brush across my face;

lips of stone, melting at the break of mine.

I told my sister how
we kissed for the first time
watching Juno. She asked
when in the movie, *I answered
from beginning to end.

I am white as charcoal
It means I'm on fire
It means I've been burnt

like candles we are born in perfect form, some would say, soon to be lit at the wick by passions and hurtful words and then we melt away into the shape we are not destined to take but begin to take and its our aroma that attracts attention, sometimes it's our color but mostly it's that in which we cannot see.

into some type of infatuation,
and then when i was bruised up enough
i climbed back out,
grabbed your hand,
and slipped back into something
that feels like love.

Evergreen,
it's not what you say,
evergreen,
it's how you mean,
evergreen,
& it's how you say,
& it's how you act
& everything in between.

Dreams,
they tell our futures
if we believe they do.

Summer, you do not have to be a fleeting lover.

Dreams,
they tell our futures
what we want them to.

You do not have to be a fleeting lover.

Dreaming is important
in and out of the sheets;
inhale the sea
and bring it back to me.
Please, don't go,
but if you do,
breathe me in and
take me too.

for you to hear
in hopes that
I might listen.

Dreams,
they tell our futures
if we believe they do.

Dreams,
they tell our futures
what we want them to.

Summer, you do not have to be a fleeting lover.

the pain is not in the unknown,
it is in the knowing

5AM i walk towards "home" in yesterday's dress,
lake seagulls scream in the sky,
a still-shallow sun melts my sensitive eyes.
good-morning  
i think, good?
perhaps,
but nonetheless morning

--a take on many mornings i have had lately--