Love for love.
Love for love's sake.
Love for the promises
you know you'll break.
Love for the way
you feel empty inside.
Love for the bitter,
cold tears you have cried.

Love because you know
it's all you can give.
Love because you have
just one life to live.
Love because you will
make many mistakes.
Love because you know
how hard your heart breaks.

Love in spite of
the distractions and cares.
Love in spite of
all these earthly affairs.
Love through the suffering.
Love through the pain.
Love through the fear
of ne'er seeing light again.
Love though your joy
has all but disappeared.
Love though your prayer
seems to fall on deaf ears.

Love because you have
been counted as whole.
Love because it's ingrained
into your soul.

Love for love.
Love what is true.
Love because it has
been done unto you.

Finding a lover is effortless
for some people.
They only want a few things:
Someone attractive, kind,
funny or rich.

But
I desire
something so much deeper.

I want

an intelligent mind
that wakes up thoughts in me
I didn't realize were hibernating.

I want

to converse, analyze and debate
without being conscious of
the sun rising and falling
between our words.

I want

to make a witty remark
at a coffee shop
so he can reply sarcastically
just for me to jab back immediately
and for him to comeback back playfully
until we're both laughing
stomachs shaking
spit flying
the whole store staring
and we leave
without coffee

I want

our hands to stitch together
perfectly
like two lost puzzle pieces;
one found under a couch cushion
one found inside a junk drawer.
The rest of the puzzle has
already been thrown away
but
these two pieces remain
and they fit.

I want

to fall in love together
then together fall in love with
art, museums, songs, poems
T.V shows, radio jingles,
greek food, backroads,
our mutual hatred for pop culture,
doing the dishes (as long as he washes and I dry)
wrong turns, piled up laundry, life.
Just fall in love with life.

I want

to hurt with him

I want

to save the world with him

I want

to meet, see, understand
and experience all that is foreign
with him.

I think it will only take us meeting
and it'll only be history and happiness from then on.

It's just a matter of if a love like that could ever be
and if a love like that could ever be for me.

Your eyes are happy now.

I remember the first time
I peered through the window--
the shutters only half-open,
guarded from the newcomer
yet aware that you should
show some lifelight.
Cut sideways,
hardened steel
saw only what could be
cheaply afforded
in the exchange.

But slowly, eventually,
you widened the curtain
and peered out across the way
to see me standing sentinel--
You said hello.
Now the steel melts to snow
turns to pools of laughter
Even in the melancholy
you never shut the door.
I said hello.

Many a day
have led me to your door,
your window,
your eyes.
Tap the glass--
are you home?
I pray the answer
is never "no."

the most frustrating thing
when it comes to a writer
is when everything
every word, every letter,
isn't enough to give justice to
the captivating picture of you
in the afternoon:

soaked in sweat,
grinning foolishly,
striking up a conversation
about coffee,
and how unhealthy it is
for me to drink
three cups straight,
to stay awake,

yet the bittersweet taste
stains my lips.

it spills down my throat,
covers my lungs,
and drowns them
with the addicting aroma
of coffee beans
and lazy dreams,
until i cannot seem
to breathe,

and the only thing
i can ever do
is to spill ink
for you.

Someday I'll have good news to share.
I'm sorry that I only tell
the parts of me I want to tear
away and send to burn in hell.

My life is a bit complex--
work and school and family
pull at me, and make me vex
my friendships and my ministry.

My body is shutting down;
I can't keep up with myself.
Sorry that I always frown
when my heart comes off the shelf.

Trust me: I want nothing more
than to be a better me
but I'm still a bit unsure
what the end result would be.

I just want to share my heart,
to share what I keep inside
but, for now, I cannot start
until in peace I will reside.

I can't give what I don't have
(it's quite sad, but it is true)
I can't split myself in half
while my parts are still askew.

Yes, I want to love you well,
but I'm not in a good place
to seek what makes my heart swell--
I'd be lying to your face.

This life isn't permanent--
I am still transitioning
into whomever I'm meant
to be living as, freely.