Something lives,
Between the first 'Good Morning.'
And the last 'Gn.'

What lived was love,
So proud to have it.

If I could write a world for you,

I’d paint it in a gentler hue.

Where shadows don’t outgrow the light,
 And stars still shine through every night.

I’d build a place where you could rest,

A quiet harbor in your chest.

Where pain grows small, and hope stands tall,

And you are loved through every fall.

I know you hide behind your eyes, 

Like cloudy days in summer skies.

But love, I see you, clear and true,

No storm could ever darken you.

You speak so soft, yet mean so much

A brush of wind, a healing touch.

And though the world may seem unkind,
There’s light inside your brilliant mind.

You say you’re lost, you say you break

But broken things still hold their shape.

The cracks you fear? They let me see

The strength that blooms so quietly.

And now you leave. two years, no call,

No messages, no texts at all.

But darling, if you ever doubt,

My love for you won’t flicker out.

It burns behind the words I say,

It breathes in every dawn and day.

You’ll be the thought I always keep,

The soul I dream of in my sleep.

So when the dark begins to near,

And no one else seems close or clear

Please hold this letter, read it through,

And know I’m always here for you.

Carrying my truth.
I stand by my views,
watching through
my weakening gaze.

After a raging storm,
making peace with myself,
I vanish into the air,
my convictions fold with me.

Without simple answers,
wearing the new lens,
I see another world:
not clearer,
not wiser,
not safer,
…
just slightly shifted.

I often think about
What we could be
In another life

Wrong time, wrong place
But what if it wasn't?
In another life

Freedom to act
On the feelings
In another life

I would explore you
And you, I
In another life

And yet we are in this life
A spark left sizzling
Refusing to die
In this life

I read
what you wrote.
It is beautiful,
and not mine.

I have laid those bones to rest—
not in spite,
but in mercy.

Your voice is strong.
Let it carry you forward.
I won’t follow.
But I will listen
from far away,
in peace.

Like Harry Potter, the sorting hat (my mom)
has placed me in a ******, crimson colored school.
It’s disorienting, as I go about, the logos are wack.

Poor little rich girl
no beachside lovers
this interminable, scorching summer.

I’m swept up by scholastic spirit.
Can you hear it? Cause it’s deafening me,
on this cool, dry, Boston orientation day.

As we finished our morning 8k jog,
the sunrise blossomed, painting hot lava clouds
with hues of yellow, orange and pink.

We’re traipsing unfamiliar paths,
it’s not what we’re used to, the roads are uneven
and the architecture’s all boxy and wrong.
.
.
Songs for this:
New Toy by Lene Lovich
Better After All by Jonatha Brooke
Now At Last by *****