"It's ok to cry just don't let them see."
Words my mother taught me.
She never told me who "them" was supposed to be.

So I assumed them was the world and built up walls.
Not to push people away,
just to protect myself-
from unspecified dangers and risks.
Like heartbreak, and heartache and being breakable.

But brick by brick you're crumbling those walls.
Without even trying, there's no force at all.

And I feel like Jericho,
where suddenly I'll be open...
And what if I get burned too?

you have eyes
you have a sight
but you didn't see

you have a mouth
you have a voice
but you didn't speak

you have ears
you could hear
but you didn't understand

you have a head
you have a brain
but you didn't think

you have a heart
you could feel
but you didn't let it beat
not even a little bit, not even at all




(samber)

I think I loved you most the winter your heating was broken
And we’d stay inside all morning
Pretending to complain that we couldn’t get out of bed
Our clothes becoming little islands on the floor,
Ones that we could not quite find the courage to visit

Your hand stayed glued to my hip,
Your breath warming my shoulder
Like a long drag of whiskey
That kind that had a home so far away,
In a glass bottle on top of your refrigerator.
The one that would not be opened
Until that fateful day in February,
When everything went wrong

And on that unbearable night
When you joked that you’d freeze to death if I left you
There was a long silence
Like it might be true.

Now it’s warm enough
That I show too much skin when sitting in bars
And you avoid me like the plague,
Whispering in any girl’s ear that’s near to you
Every time you see me watching out of the corner of your eye

We should have stayed inside when the ice began to melt
Because I think
When those doors opened and we finally ventured outside
The world had changed,
And so had you and I.

Do you ever just breathe?

Well of course you are constantly breathing,
but do you ever
                                just breathe?

Do you ever lie on your back,
Close your eyes,
And
B   r e    a   t h e

Inhale
               Exhale

Do you ever just breathe?
And feel the rise and decline of your chest,
The intake of oxygen
bringing renewal to every single cell in your body

Do you ever just breathe?
In silence of mind and body.
Still
Except for your lungs,
Your ribcage e x  p   a     n        d           i            n           g,
Diaphragm relaxing,
Then contracting as your ribcage draws in closer

Inhaling wonder
                                Exhaling thankfulness

Thankful to your Maker
Who started this life-sustaining cycle
Of oxygen to carbon dioxide
Which made you alive
So that you were no longer pieces of dust residing on the
         cold ground

Do you ever just breathe?
Only to realize
You've taken many
of your precious breaths for granted,
That each respiration could be filled with inspiration,
That the gift of life is not in fact yours to keep,
Nor to take
And it could be stripped from you at any point.

Do you ever just breathe?
And feel the warm love of the Divine Creator
Who made you special,
just as he made the stars

Do you ever just breathe?
And want to make every breath count



                                                        ­                      *I do

Wifi off.

Disconnected from the misconception of connection.

Sitting in this warm house
I look out the window that keeps me safe inside
I look through to a snowy paradise

Man, it looks beautiful...
from in here at least
but the grass chokes beneath the suffocating snow
and the glittery ice on dead trees weighs the branches down.

From inside this season is a pleasant scene,
In reality, tragically beautiful.
Nature's remnants shrouded by frozen precipitations.
     How can each single unique snowflake band together to push cars off of roads?
     And seal doors shut?

Winter you are real,
     A crazy gorgeous, yearly event
with the power to make us slow down,
                                                   or stay in.

Winter you are a force to be observed and not challenged.
Sometimes you freeze us,
but you always look spectacular.

"Dear God,
I want to be a poet."

I want to speak in silver metaphors that slither into ear canals and seep into cortexes.
Words that turn eyes to a new perspective,
that crack your skull wide open with honest art.
Reality and creativity,
Taped together and painted over in the truest colours of life.

I want to speak in that powerful, yet still human, voice.
To quake the ground beneath you until you are shaken up
and you shed that exoskeleton of hurt,
or fear,
or doubt,
or ignorance.
I want all of that lifeless skin to loosen its grip around you,
and not bind you so tightly to complacency.

I want to establish communities of words,
that take you in as their own.
Delivered so rhythmically that your own pulse will begin to race inside of you,
parallel to the lines I've written.

I want to make you run with these words,
feel the winds against you,
push past the resistance and onto freedom,
as every weight lifts off of you.
So I can show you that your shoulders were not made to carry boulders,
your eyes were not meant for harsh tears,
and that everyone needs a break sometimes....

I want to be a poet because if I know the truth, I want to share it.
Wear proclamations on the palms of my hands,
hope radiating from my worn skin.

I want to write poems because I know that we're all human,
so why hide it?
Why hide our emotions when we can let them take flight?
If we've gotten through the tangled mess, why can't we reach back and help the next hero climb though?

I want to show love.
I want to understand,
I want to now who I am.

"Dear God,
Thank you for giving me a notebook as a best friend,
and giving me a copy of yours.
I know that no matter how far off I stray with my imagination,
I will always know what is truth."

I wanted to be a poet,
but now,

*I just want to be me

I'm wearing your sweatshirt to sleep again
I'm under my own roof and it makes me feel more at home

I've bitten my nails until they bleed
But when I hold your hand, everything seems to heal

I can't undo the tangles in my hair
But you trace your fingers down my arm and every one of my thoughts becomes unwinded and untangled before you