The light is too shy to dance with their breath.
Shivering German roads love the massage of Jewish feet.
If only the Angles weren’t too busy with me;
Tommy called me dumb and I needed God’s help.

Not even a pocket full of posies can scent moldy dreams.
24 is too young to give up, but old enough to be tired of fighting.
Our future has seen too many yesterdays to wait for tomorrow.
The world holds life together by thin threads we’re too eager to cut.

There are too many people
With smiles outshining
Their hearts
When did it become acceptable
To say foul things
As long as we brushed our teeth
Instead of being good people
Even in ***** clothes

Between a baby's first word
And a deathbed confession
There are plenty of times
For God to say,
“I told you so.”

This was a handwritten letter that wasn’t patient enough to wait in the mail. I am a supporter of writing letters.

Our world is drifting from the simplicity of pen and paper. We love to complicate things in life.

I hope this letter can be a simple reminder that there is happiness and hope, even in darkness that reminds you of ink.

The first time I saw you my mind raced to memories of summer days at the beach; campfires; the sound of the ocean.

I thought, “She has no idea how beautiful she is. It doesn't cross her mind that girls envy her and men desire her. She is too concerned with the sound of laughter, and how it makes the darkness step back.”

I make a lot of assumptions, mostly unjustified, about people I cross paths with. But I am sure you are justified in feeling like royalty. You look like happiness.

A fort in the living room that looks like a castle, and cookie dough that tastes like heaven. If the opportunity crosses my path, I would give anything to meet you.

If you walked in front of me, I would think you were a shooting star and make a wish.

Don’t change. Shine unapologetically. You illuminate the humans around you.

Admittedly, the desire to write this letter is still unknown. The desire is there and so here are the words.

If my life is just
The dream of some god
I hope he remembers
            me
When he wakes up

I mistook her eyes
For birthday candles
And when she whispered
Hello
My wish came true

I can shout it because I’m pitiful,
But I’ll whisper it because I'm weak.
It’s the only thing light enough to say.
And I’m sorry saying sorry
Won’t change a **** thing!

Death doesn’t care how much we cry.
Even if we swear to change,
To cork the *****,
Or
Come home on time,
Death will carry on as usual.
Without skipping a beating heart

If you are going to shine in this world,
it is essential to know:

You will cast shadows.

People will hate you for
the darkness,
instead of praising you
for clarity.

"I love you,"
One:
You are the first person to ever say that to me
The grass felt soft and the air warm
We couldn't stop laughing

"I love you,"
Two:
I'm a bit more skeptical because words aren't actions
And you're actions are yelling another story; it sounds more like a tragedy than a comedy.

Three:
Someone told me they loved me before, but hadn't thought about what it means. I trust you are most selective with my feelings. (A candle-lit dinner means more than artificial light.)

"I _ _ _ _ you,"
Four:
We say "love" as often as "hate;" they can be equally destructive.

Five:
I'm alone. I can love myself.

"I love you,"
Six:
This time I said it first. That was a mistake. You are only skin deep. You couldn't understand anything more than perfume and mascara. It makes all the difference if you break or are broken.

Seven:
We are collapsing buildings, screaming it one last time before we accept we never had a chance. If we had been trees we could have swayed in the breeze.

Eight:
I am alone.

"I love,"
Nine:
My love is for someone else, not for myself.

Ten:
I'm very cautious when someone says, "I love you." I've heard it before. I have only seen it through squinting eyes.
When it's honest, I hope I know how to care for it properly.

If you are uncomfortable when you look in the mirror,
keep in mind:
We spent thousands of years
trying to convince the earth
she was flat.

We wrote her maps as evidence of the things we saw;
and she believed them.
She cried tsunamis, and had earthquake breakdowns.

Keep in mind: the Sun never gave up hope.
The earth will keep spinning and breathing
the star-dusty space void of encouragement.

Next time you look in the mirror
and second-guess your potential divinity,
remember you will keep shining and living.

Because the Sun is out there
believing in you,
compensating for lack of the human capacity
to treat each other empathically.

You don’t need proof or approval
to be exactly what you are;
Eventually everyone will see
your infinite beauty.