Do you realize
I am putty in your hands?

I would give it all
everything and more
to make you
need me, as I do you.

Three words
Eight letters
Bubble up my throat
Into my mouth
Rising up to the
Tip of my tongue
Resting,
deliberately, anxiously
before I once again
swallow them.

I refuse to lose control.

Sleeping next to you
so often misconstrues
my perception of reality.
So when we awake,
restless in the night,
it can often feel
like a wonderful
dream.
Perhaps,
in the end,
it is.


I wish to never wake up.

Sometimes
the rooftops
with the biggest cracks
let in
the brightest
 sun.

Sometimes
the floors
sitting on the shakiest
foundation
hold
the strongest
homes.

Sometimes
the smallest trees
grow
the biggest
roots.

I wonder
if love
is the constant
rotation
of vulnerability;
No one
can be strong
Forever.

After a while

After a while you learn
the subtle difference between
holding a hand and chaining a soul
And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning
and company doesn't always mean security.

And you being to learn
That kisses aren't contracts
and presents aren't promises
and you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes ahead
with the grace of a woman
and the grief of a child.

And you learn
to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow's ground is
too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way
of falling down mid-flight.

After a while you learn
that even sunshine burns if you get too much
so you plant your own garden
and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting
for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn
that you really can endure
that you really are strong
and you really do have worth
and you learn and you learn
with every goodbye you learn.

so much of me
is lost permanently
in so little
of you.

Today I walked outside
and the wind picked me up
and blew me away.
Carrying me first down the street
Then across the town
miles and miles
I tumbled through manicured lawns
and gravel streets
bruised and battered I traveled
to finally land, somehow,
at your front door.

All that I am,
everything I ever was
has always been defined
in the form of a question.
Perhaps this introduces
the notion of uncertainty ,
of caution,
but to me
it represents an existence
formed almost entirely
by possibility.

Can't you see
that after all this time
all I can do
is give
and give and give
so you can take
and take and take
until all that I am
is empty
while you overflow.

Maybe there are 2 versions
Of the same me.
This one, here,
silent, and alone
and wishing
that all that we are
was sacred
and then one carried with you
in the folds of your shirt
and the mud stains
on the soles of your shoes
when you walk
wherever you walk
without me.

Do you know
the power you have
over me?
The way
I continuously
fall in love
with your touch
the way it shocks
10,000 volts
destroying every inch of me
helpless
until you piece me
back together
or worse-
leave me broken.