I was asked, why do I write and all I could think of to say,
was because I believe.

I believe looks matter.
There is
healing in a look of compassion,
love in understanding,
comfort in tears cried with me.

But one look away, ignoring
can break a heart.


I believe touch matters.
There is
care enclosed in a hug,
relief in a hand placed on a shoulder,
encouragement in a touch on the passing by.

But pulling away, distance
can break a heart.


I believe words matter.
There is
acceptance in words of forgiveness,
restoration in mercy and grace,
healing in kind, soothing whispers.

But one word out of bitterness, hatred
can break a person.


I write because I believe words matter.
I write because I believe you matter.

Sometimes it takes
thousands of words
to heal a broken soul

and I want to tell you,

I will write
word after word,
paragraph after paragraph,
page after page.
As long as it takes,
I will write until you finally believe
that you matter.

She stopped eating until she was nothing but right angles and sharp edges. It was if she couldn’t understand the math of the world she lived in, so she sought the neat geometry of the curve of her hollowed hips, the bend of her wishbone elbow, and the measurements of her rag doll ankles.

We stared out the back window at the painted lines making patterns on the highway. I got lost in the flickering of a broken headlight barreling towards us, but you only focused on the red brake lights of the cars that passed us by. We never turned around because we were too afraid of what might be right in front of us, so holding hands we stared out the back window, and watched the industrial river flow away from us.

They say, "good things come if you wait."
I've fallen in love six, seven, eight,
but somehow I find you worth holding the door for
God laughs at my girlish delusions
love is a trap door.

She wore forget-me-nots
in her hair, but every morning
they only called her darling.

Won’t you slip into
the drapes of my collarbone
and nestle kissing my throat.
I’ll breathe a quiet moan
you’ll unbutton my cotton coat.

Close me inside the walls
that are dusty from lack of use
locked from adolescent abuse,
and dimmed inside we’ll retreat
to kiss where our eyes don’t meet.

Insanity Is the comfort of a pillow, used for suffocation.
Insanity Is the warmth of a gun, used for a death shot.
Insanity Is the enabler,
The barrier breaker,
The undertaker.

Insanity Is a safety zone.
Insanity Is a shield.
Insanity Is a guard for all to take part in it,
All who brush with it,
All who dwell in it.

Insanity Is the abstract thoughts, the rotund ways.
Insanity Is the thought that you can do anything.
Insanity Is the fact that people can question, can insult, can pry,
And they never seem to affect you,
And they never will.

Insanity Is a soft room, padded with cushy walls.
Insanity Is a group of people, who try to figure out what's wrong.
Insanity Is not quite knowing what's going on,
Having that privilege,
Having that power.

Insanity Is engulfing, a single being in itself.
Insanity Is the process of losing yourself.
Insanity Is the way you go when you just seem to snap,
Lucky enough to see nothing,
Lucky that everything goes black.

Serendipity: Something that happens in a beneficial way without looking for it.

It has recently occurred to me that you are my serendipity.