It's okay to cry.
Cry a river if you have to.
Cry if it helps you to breathe again.

All of us sat in a painful silence that draped over us like a cool quilt.  Each set of our electric eyes had lost their sparkle.  Swollen and scarlet, full of knowing what was to come.  I think everyone comes into the world with a little fire inside them that only burns for something once in your short existence.  She was the gasoline.  She was the bucket of ice cold water, too.  Maybe that’s why I can only take freezing showers and when I’m standing under the rain, I usually cry.  I remembered her perfectly; a pristine picture book of her best moments that my tired mind kept flipping through.  After a while I couldn’t take any more paper cuts.  I ripped out my favorite couple pictures and the book that kept her alive retired to the attic of my brain.  Her sleepy head resting on the broken shell of whom my dad used to be.  I sort of envied him in those last few moments.  She wanted him and it was clear, but we all wanted her in our own quivering arms.  To race against time so maybe we wouldn’t ever forget her, I know now that that is a burden he’ll carry forever.  Maybe parents really do know best.  You hear stories about people who have completely hidden their very own childhood from themselves; I hope that she isn’t one of them.  I think I might be how else I would have made it through the night terrors and the empty place at the dinner table.  It’s still vacant but we all pretend not to notice.  I can hear you breathing when I listen to classical piano solos and I’m pretty sure that’s why crying myself to sleep is normalcy and cold sweats feel like routine.  I can’t help but hate the sound of my own heartbeat because it won’t stop beating for you.  But it’s out of my throat and down the drain every time I revisit the thought of your precious little fingers and the way you loved to splash in the bath.  The last few stars flickered out that day so darkness just feels like

mind blocked
heart thumping
fingers fidgeting
legs shaking

here we are
waiting for an update
anything
even just a note

hoping for good news
we rebuke any bad scenario  
and just hope for the best

and in a blink of an eye
we hear the news
we are torn and grateful
two feelings at once

we don't know what to feel
and we start reminiscing

our hearts torn that you are gone
but grateful that you are no longer suffering
we were hoping to be with you
but we know you're better Up There

you are finally Home
and we know you're happy
probably jumping in joy
and watching over us

you will be missed
but never forgotten
you'll be in our hearts forever,
dear Mr. Smit.

We stand so tall among the grass...
And yet...
I feel so small.
Why is it that we follow our dreams...
But sometimes we are so far behind?

I want to be the closest to the door...
To open up that opportunity and breathe in that accomplishment.

Life has given me the words to express.
Love has given me the feeling of heartache.

I question whether the word love is overly used by us all...

But can you overly use a word that can be said so easily?
A word that... Can mean the world... But can also tear anyone apart.

I live in a life full of adventure.
Where the smiles never leave me...
And even though some people do...
I can still stand tall among the grass...
Breathing in that accomplishment of just being there...
And even though I may feel small and so far from some dreams' reach...

I can still stand and open the door of opportunity.

As we danced among the fireflies...
The moon smiled.

The sea began to kiss the shore.
Just as you kissed me.

My hummingbird of a heart began to flutter.

I don't want to leave this place.
I don't want these feelings to fade.

So let's keep dancing.
So let's keep kissing.

Until the lights go out.

I look back sometimes
at my life
my small time here
the whole road has been unclear
my decisions never end up
how I imagine
it's like I'm still running away
from a home that doesn't exist
at least not anymore
my feet ache
my back hurts
my head feels old
pretty drunk girls annoy me
I'd rather have someone
do the twist across from me
than shake their ***
I pass my cigarette from
hand to hand
pondering plans and how
they always get led off track
how did I end up here
hundreds of miles from
my birth place
my old friends scattered
my old ideals shattered
all the chances I took
and none of them mattered
back at square one
me, myself, and no one
the sun beats down
mocking me
as if it shines brighter to ask
"Why can't you see Dan?
Am I too bright?
Why can't you see?"