we built something
in the clearing,
quiet, green,
half-shadow,
half-trust.

you wandered off
chasing light
through darker trees,
calling it
your path.

i waited,
moss growing over
the words
we never finished.

when the axe fell,
it was gentle.
silent.
already done.

now,
i walk alone
through what’s left
of us,
and still,
the forest grows.

For the wrong lover,
I’ve emptied oceans,
split the earth,
waltzed through flame,
and silenced gods.
So tell me,
why should I kneel
for anything less?

You asked for space,
said you needed to float,
to realign your stars.

But you were gravity
pulling someone else close,
while I drifted,
untethered,
alone in the dark.

So don’t call it healing.
Call it what it was,
eclipse.

I put my wheels to the sky, left your ghost behind,

You stood there frozen, with a cross I couldn't find.

Your eyes were oceans, but you never let them drown,

We lost the light, while we were still spinning 'round.
I gave you the stars, tried to pull 'em down,

Held on through fire, held on through the sound.

But some love’s a flame, it fades to the night,

And you can’t heal what’s broken in flight.
You held me like a memory, soft and cold,

This road we walked was more than I could hold.

Now you’ve found a new sunrise to chase,

While I’m just echoes in an empty space.
I gave you the stars, tried to pull 'em down,

Held on through fire, held on through the sound.

But some love’s a flame, it fades to the night,

And you can’t heal what’s broken in flight.
I loved you like rain on a desert shore,

Now I don’t know if I can love you anymore.

Still, I won’t look back at the rivers we’ve crossed,

I’d do it again, but not at the cost.
I gave you the stars, let 'em slip through my hands,

But love's just a whisper in shifting sands.

I’ll drive through the dark, let the past be the past,
Some roads are just dreams that never last.

Remember when you called me your muse?
How I blushed, how you thought I was pretty,
a mirror of your words,
reflecting your longing back at you.
I see it now.

Now, I’m the one who carries that weight,
your image in my mind,
repeating over and over like a record skipping.
And I understand,
the beauty, the burden,
the heartbreak we circle back to,
over and over.
I’m sorry, darlin’,
for the ache I gave you then.

Everything is circular, isn’t it?
We’re just echoes,
tangled in the loop.
But this time,
maybe we’ll find a new rhythm.

You still haunt my kitchen light,
Steam on the glass, I'm burnin’ rice,
Your laugh's still stuck in the cast iron pan,
Like the grip of your hands, like a half-baked plan.

We hiked through moss and grass divine,
Your boots on mine in the fumblin' climb,
You kissed like you knew you’d forget me twice,
So I bit your lip just to feel alive.

I know you want me,
But you’re busy playing ghost,
Pretendin’ you don’t miss
The things you miss the most.
I ain’t beggin’, I ain’t broke,
But baby, you can’t fake smoke.
You want me.
You just won’t let it show.

You fold your guilt like laundry sheets,
Hide my name in your Sunday heat,
You dream in moans you won’t confess,
Wake up in sweat, blame the mattress.

And me? I’m half a whiskey in,
Writing you songs you’ll never spin,
But I know you’d hum this in the dark,
Like your fingers traced my collarbone art.

I know you want me,
Though your silence plays it cool,
But I see your poker face
And raise it with the truth.
I ain’t chasing, I ain’t slow,
But darlin', heat don't lie in snow.
You want me.
You just can’t let it show.

You still cook alone with the lights down low,
Put on my playlist, let the hunger grow.
But pride is a canyon we both can’t cross,
So we hike around love, get each other lost.

I know you want me,
You just don’t know what to do,
With a heart that fits too well
And a body that remembers you.
I ain’t askin', I just know,
I’m still the ache you never outgrow.
You want me.
Even if you won’t let it show.

And I want you,
But I wish you'd let me know.

I am the campfire that never dies,
burning steady through storm and silence,
warm enough to draw others close,
fierce enough to hold my ground.
My heart is a wide river,
carving through canyons with time and patience.
It overflows,
it gives,
it pulls everything it touches into it's current.
I carry laughter like a lantern,
swinging through dark places,
making shadows dance along the walls.
In my work, I am both the tree and the tool,
rooted, rough, full of potential,
shaping the world with hands that know
how to measure, how to mend,
how to bring form from chaos.
Stubborn as an oldgrowth redwood.
I bend in the wind
but I do not break.
Not because I’m unyielding,
but because I believe in what I am.
Poetry is the breath I hold underwater,
the truth that floats to the surface
when the noise fades.
It speaks in silence,
like a deer in the woods
watching, listening, knowing.
I move through nature
like a memory,
hiking trails that remember my footsteps,
fishing in still waters that mirror the sky,
hunting not for conquest
but for closeness,
for something ancient I can’t quite name.
In the car, I am wind,
untamed, unfiltered,
singing stories I don’t even realize I carry
until they escape me.

And then,
there was you.

You, who didn’t just see the flame,
but sat beside it,
added kindling,
watched it dance with wonder.
You were the echo of my own laughter,
the reflection in calm water
that looked back at me and said,
"Keep going."
You knew the language of sawdust and silence,
spoke in patience,
in presence,
in quiet belief.
With you, I wasn’t just whole,
I was seen.
Encouraged to grow without pruning.
Loved not in spite of the wild in me,
but because of it.
And then,
just as quietly as you came,
you were gone.
Not in anger, not in noise,
but like the sun slipping behind a mountain.
Suddenly,
the fire felt colder.
The woods, more still.
The echo, unanswered.
I am still the builder,
the helper,
the flame.
But now I carry your absence
like a second heartbeat,
silent,
constant,
felt in everything I create.
You are not here,
but you are not gone.
You live in the parts of me
you once believed in.
In the steady hands,
in the open heart,
in the trail I still walk alone
but never lonely.
Even in the silence,
I am still becoming.
And a part of you
is becoming with me.