Don't.

Don't apologize for the way your soul sees the world.
Don't back down from your brokeness.
How many times have you
split your self open in the
deepest parts of the night
and admired the constellations
your journey has become?

You, sweet sister, are a galaxy
and a thousand adventure novels
and a big boquet of roses wrapped up into
one.

Don't hold back your breath
if you are afraid of incinerating
the rest of us.

To be honest most of us are waiting
to be lit on fire
for something.
Anything.

I can't imagine a better reason to burn
than for everything that you are.

Shelters and Storms

He hadn't met a girl who felt
everything so heavily before.
You could tell he was afraid.

Everything he had known
disintegrated at his touch.
Every person he had loved was
as airy and unpredictable as the wind.

But her.


She was a shelter in all of
his thunderstorms.
Somewhere he could be free.

But freedom to a captive feels
a lot like quick sand.
So we will see how long it takes him to find out
that his shelter is
me.

New York

I wondered, while riding in, if the city was built on broken rocks or
broken backs...or both.
Either way.


Did people see them as stepping stones or sacrifices?
Was the city split into mourners and politicians?


Is being the city that never sleeps worth losing
all rest that ever was?
Or are we insomniacs trying to escape the haunting
truth that waits for us in our dreams?

Smoke and Roses.

You can still smell roses even when they're dying.
You can still breathe in smoke when
the fire has been reduced to ash.
I can't wait to be loved the way
I am meant to be loved.
Because right now my heart is smoke and roses.
You can smell the fire
but you can tell it's dying.

Breathless

During my week, day to day, I am exhausted.
Breathless.
Gasping for an extraction of tension.

When I touch the sea?
I am awake.
I am at peace.
Time stops
and I have no recollection of anguish.
Jesus makes me feel the same way.

What did I ever do before the ocean?