She's getting tattooed by
My brother. He locked us in to
His studio just to give her
Her Christmas present
In ink.

Now she's tipsy with French
Red bottled painkillers,
And my brother keeps telling her
To sit still every thirty odd
Seconds.

He's about to cut it down to
Every tenth.
Outside, people try the studio
Door, thinking it's open, but
No.

This is the time for the special.
Oslo day turns into night,
Neon dances, beggars get more
Intense, and in the middle of it
All, I glance over my

Carlsberg at her long, long black
Hair dyed red at the tips,
And think something to myself
That rhymes with home, but
Not alone.

There's something about drinking
A little beer on a Monday.
The moon and stars look down at
Us; their slightly lost,
Most beloved children, and

Dream Theater sing Pull
Me Under, as I think that
She might have done so by
Just about *******
Now.

This heart has been
The smallest boy in the
Schoolyard.

Picked on, punched.
Called names, pointed at
With raw laughter of the

Cruel, cruel kind.
Grew skin as solid as its
Ability to draw

Lines, and stand for them.
I will not accept.
Sometimes pulse

Is the heart
Beating
Back.

Sometimes it's good
To be sad.
To not chase away,
But embrace the heaviness
That weighs down your

Heart and feet.

Sometimes it's good
To be sad.
To rest your head in a
Warm lap, allowing tears to flow,
And loving fingers to

Find them.

I thought I could brace myself from the impact.
Just in case things went in a direction I didn't want them to.

But alas, 'let's just be friends' hurt harder than getting hit by a truck.

The funny thing is, I had a feeling about it.
One of those...
It seems too good to be true, so it probably is.
**** me.

I feel like an idiot.

And as my friends kiss my newly bleeding wounds...
They tell me this is an experience not a mistake.

Even though I feel like this is a repeat cycle of mistakes.
I always seem to think 'okay this one is different I am certain.'

Only to figure out that I was completely wrong.

I leap into things....
This I know.

But when I love...
I love hard.

And I guess I crash just as hard when it all falls down.

I continue to wonder if I have learned my lesson...
But I don't think I have.

Because I keep repeating things.

I like to think I can spot red flags instantly...
But this one...
This one tricked me pretty well.

So....
You're 25.....
You've survived!
25 years and
more than 25 tears shed
over 100 times
25 beers
Not counting 25 lies
And 25 broken ties
Or the 25 and more blows to your sunken in eyes
Here's to the 25 + shovel strokes
To get you out of that deep dark hole
The hole you were birthed into
25 years prior
With no voice, no choice
No written down plans to escape from fire.
But you've jumped from that window of the 25th floor building;
Each story built
from each year
that you're holding.
Not knowing if you'd collapse
from your fall
Or relapse
or perhaps
even survive at all.
But you chose to anyway
Better lie dead smashed on the pavement
than go out burning away.
Took a long time to hit rock bottom.
Never dreaming you'd reach the ground,
never thinking of your feet
or that you'd land on them.
But you made it!
You've crash landed!
Took 25 years until you couldn't stand it.
And now you're standing up
for the very first time.
From the crash
and the ash
and you're feeling alive!
Took a dive to realize
This whole time inside
That you've got it in you.
The strength to survive!