Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea,
     Thy tribute wave deliver:
No more by thee my steps shall be,
     For ever and for ever.

Flow, softly flow, by lawn and lea,
     A rivulet then a river:
Nowhere by thee my steps shall be
     For ever and for ever.

But here will sigh thine alder tree
     And here thine aspen shiver;
And here by thee will hum the bee,
     For ever and for ever.

A thousand suns will stream on thee,
     A thousand moons will quiver;
But not by thee my steps shall be,
     For ever and for ever.

'Tis moonlight, summer moonlight,
All soft and still and fair;
The solemn hour of midnight
Breathes sweet thoughts everywhere,

But most where trees are sending
Their breezy boughs on high,
Or stooping low are lending
A shelter from the sky.

And there in those wild bowers
A lovely form is laid;
Green grass and dew-steeped flowers
Wave gently round her head.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no, it is an ever-fixèd mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand’ring bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
    If this be error and upon me proved,
    I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

54

If I should die,
And you should live—
And time should gurgle on—
And morn should beam—
And noon should burn—
As it has usual done—
If Birds should build as early
And Bees as bustling go—
One might depart at option
From enterprise below!
’Tis sweet to know that stocks will stand
When we with Daisies lie—
That Commerce will continue—
And Trades as briskly fly—
It makes the parting tranquil
And keeps the soul serene—
That gentlemen so sprightly
Conduct the pleasing scene!

In a house full of unread books
In a house full of unworn clothes
Lived a lady with an unused heart.
I often wondered how this ladies heart came to be
Full of thorns and full of scorn.
In a house of open heart
In a house of open mind
Lived a lady with open wounds.
People often wondered
How she came to be
Surrounded by brambles that she refused to cut.
In the house full of stale laughter
In the house full of fresh tears
Lived a lady that was numb from the heart.
I often wonder how it will end
Apathy and self pity create barriers impenetrable
For the lady with a heart of thorns.

She traced
the patterns pressed
by the grass
into my knees

with gentle lips
and fingertips
as light as
falling leaves...

Am I okay?

I cry every night,
And can't breathe most days.

I sometimes want to die,
And feel buried by all the lies.

I have a broken heart,
And trust issues.

But also,

I smile at the little things,
And laugh for no reason.

I have hope in my heart,
And light in my eyes.

I am getting stronger,
And I will keep trying.

So:
Am I okay?
No.

Will I be okay?
**Yes

Our lives are just like books
Filled with numerous chapters
We may not like what’s inside
But turning the page and
Continuing the story
Is the only way to move on