I’ve learned to listen when my mother talks,
I’ve become so used to thriving off of hastily done love.
Patience is so hard to use,
But that’s why they call it virtue,
I could crawl back into the arms of another someone.
Or I could start to let go,
Of these hopeless pleads for romance.
Truthfully I don’t need anyone but me,
To know I’m worth it,
To know I’ve made it.


Rest, you’ve come so far.


I’ve learned to listen when my mother talks,
That if I keep chasing the broken,
And expecting full light,
I’m not right.
That you can love somebody,
That isn’t good for you,
And still keep them in your heart,
Hope that they grow beyond what keeps them down.


Mama said no broken girls


I’m sorry that I didn’t stick around,
Sometimes I wonder what would happen,
If we tried to stick it out.
Next Fourth of July,
I don’t think I’ll go to see the fireworks.
Instead I’ll stay a little longer at the family BBQ,
Get to know my family a little better than I have.
Because in this world we don’t get to choose blood,
But we do get to choose who we love with,
I’m sorry I didn’t choose you.


If we had come along a little later :(

Ambiguity
Seven Times
Maybe one and two
Or many verbal words
Scatter our grasp
For sense and meaning
A puzzle thrown
In the Air here and there.

Here these words
Are pieces unconnected
Even as the word, THE,
Can take us to "the" beach
Or to " the" room
What you bring can
And Might
Be your rescue. Maybe.

You are here.
In the dark or light
Where one can't be defined
Without the other
Just as the meaning of you
Lives never in just one place
But resolved
Simultaneously ambiguous
This is your beauty.

You weren't supposed to do that
There were rules, guidelines
You can't just waltz in here
And break every word
No
You were given instructions
How to handle with care
There were expectations
You agreed before entering
Yet
You didn't just trash the place
You left devastation, a mess
Breaking every piece, every rule
You weren't supposed to break me

Pieces, pieces, pieces
colorful or dull
sharp or soft
intricate or simple

all the same
all want to fit
few fit with all
all fit with few

Oh, to be the few
to fit with all
I fit with few
like many of you

purpose: for in the many parts of me, I know somewhere there
could be a perfect version of me – if only I wasn’t losing pieces
of myself so purposely. living past due the experience of full sleep;
ten thousand butterflies in the net of my body, to form a fluttering
soul.

heavy lead filled tears to melt in the soil – when I choose to cry, I
think of the rain for my emotions to better flow, catching my breath
on love, by that breeze of excitement. winded from chasing after the
dreams of it, and running further away from prior defeats – some still
follow me.

love asks me, to fight my battle; a lover would tell me, “be my
champion,” my own strength would remind me to be a little more
patient – my eyes would sting me, for finding a reason to be blinded
again. lastly these unclean hands would pretend to have never
touched a piece of sin though in the many pieces of myself, pieces
of myself have been followers of skin.
            so stands the message, sighed as a lover

It’s funny how you had me run to your

needs and everything I did it was with

ease, no time to sit back because I was on

your track so if it derailed I knew how to

bounce back, it wasn’t fated or in no

contract I just knew your soul was reading

my context, ever so lifted engraved with

transition full of life and always in the

distance; you filled my days with ignition,

simplistic with intentions but not gathered

by good decisions, we parted ways when

Moses split the sea leaving thoughts behind

as if you were a daydream, a cutoff to the

main stream but I reopened up those doors

like a dam who was in need, refreshing

with a lesson but filled those pages with

wages and empty spaces for me to erase,

create and fill a void that ached with greed,

I knew life would prevail I stood my

ground and watch the ocean exhaled with a

stare that came in like a seclusion hoping

you weren’t the reason I was choosing

I go to the doctors
just for a checkup,
she puts her hand on my chest to feel my heart.
And at that moment i wonder if she can feel how its broken into a million pieces.
I wonder if she can feel with each thump, another piece breaking off.
I wonder if she can feel all the denial, all the workers in my brain trying to mend those pieces together,
but then it all breaking apart again.

Watch me pick pieces
Cardiac geometry
Repair rut you ripped