To be loved is to be known

wholly, completely, and unfalteringly known

to be naked in front of one another


not with skin, but with one’s soul

Exposed and raw, shameful and afraid;

Beautiful and flawed, unabashed and free


To be loved is to be known,

Achingly, deeply, painfully known

to venture far past thorns and briars,


into dense woods and icy mountains.

To cut and scrape and climb your way through,

to wander into the unknown,

to shiver under blankets of snow.


To be loved is to be known,

to search the vast depths of ocean and sky and earth

looking for you-


-looking for the good and the bad too.

Attempting to harness, not capture, your heart.


Attempting to feel-


-the ever-changing seasons-


-of your soul.

My mind is in anguish
as I process my past

They carved scars into my skin
With their sharpened knives

Then gave me claws that I couldn’t seem to trim

First I hurt myself
Scratching my skin until it was raw

Salty tears didn’t heal my wounds

Now I’ve scarred your flesh
Because I didn’t file my nails

It bleeds as I stare in horror

I never thought I’d recreate the pain
That I had felt so deeply before


Although I now carefully remove each talon
Inspecting their purpose

Your scars will remain, just as mine

I wish I was never given those weapons
That I didn’t want

I wish hadn’t used them

Forever now I live in reflection
As I wonder if your cuts will heal

As I wonder if we can move forward

My wounds revealed

Shady sunshine falls on a bright green hill

Chubby cheeks and ringlet curls

Frolicking around fat squirrels and dandelions

Spinning on a rope swing,
A blurry canopy of trees and laughter

Big smiles make us feel young

So we frolicked and danced

under the sun.

Sometimes I go back to the past

I watch my twiggy legs shake, my hands grip my arms attempting to steady; to comfort

I watch myself form an invisible box around my body; a personal shield

While I begged for forgiveness that I didn’t need

My brain separated my consciousness from reality,

I said it all just like a story,
just like they had taught me



On my knees in front of your bed,
an altar for wrathful gods

I cried and I prayed for forgiveness that I didn’t need

I took all the blame, bared it like a cross
and carried it with me,

You gave me a title, a crown of thorns-
and watched me bleed  


And still while I bled, exposed on your cross,

You told me to beg harder, for the innocence I had lost

So I begged for forgiveness that I didn’t need


while he watched under the shade of your palm trees-