the store

we went to the store the other day.

we walked passed one another and i wondered to myself,

what it would be like if i didn't know you.

would music sound as sweet

or be as important?

would i still stare at the stars and wonder

and wish for impossible things on slow moving planes?

would i ever have felt so insignificant

yet needed on such a constant basis?

would i miss the way you kissed me

even if it was totally unexpectedly quick?

would i have met someone in the interim 

who appreciated me and loved me more than you?

would i ever miss the way you smell

and the way your scent lingers around me

hours after we've parted?

would i be a different person entirely

having not met you,

having not experienced the intriguing and frustrating sides of you?

would i be thankful that you had never come in to my life; 

had not inspired me in so many ways,

had not taught me so much about myself,

how much i can handle,

what i'm capable of, 

how i can be more than who i am or was?

would i miss you?

we went to the store the other day.

we walked passed one another and i wondered to myself,

what it would be like if i didn't know you.

i'm glad i don't know.

green

i wish i were the girl

who made the sun shine brighter each day for you.

who makes you smile upon each peaking dawn,

and ignites laughter in ordinary stances.

i wish i were the girl

who made the stars twinkle brighter in your sky.

who gives you wonder in deep navy seas

and dances in the pale beams of the moon.

i wish i were the girl

who knew the touch of your hand

who never knew of space or time

without the forbidden lingered thoughts.

this girl, however, exists

and in ways i find myself painted green.

in times of longing for closer distance,

i find envy in ways you allow her.

however, it's unfair of me to claim exhaustion

or to be down about her now,

because i am not the keeper of what you keep close

nor has this ever been accepted.

you see, i'd try to be these things for you

and to show you i know how.

but minds get made upon stone set things

and this season i can not change.  

but i'll still be the girl 

who will hold your umbrella through the rain.

and i'll still be the one

who wishes on your streaking stars.

because regardless of your intent

with the sun, the moon or stars

in small ways, around my heart

you'll always be that man.

caged

sometimes i think of myself as a bird.

i think like a yellow finch.
quietly perched in my wooden cage.
it's a beautiful cage;
the wood has dulled and the wire spokes bow.
hand made, just for me.
there is plenty of space in my cage.
room for me to move, different levels for me to sit.
sit.
that's what i do mostly.
a door to my cage has been left open.
i watch it every day,
waiting for someone to come in.
i wait.
and even with the ability to fly, i can't.
even with the ability to feel the wind in my feathers, i don't.
and as days pass, the cage feels stronger.
the lemony golden color of me feels lackluster,
the song i sing has gone stale.
by my own devices, i've created a prison.
confined.
and as the moments pass, and as i stare at the door
waiting for someone to come in,
an idea.
no longer seeking the one to come in
but allowing myself to be the one that goes out.
for the prison in which i harbored my piteous doubts
was actually inviting me out to it's world.
sometimes i think of myself as a bird,
able to fly when others can not.

white flag

i've written this before.

in my mind it always sounds so clever, but alas, it's not articulate.

i need to say some of these things though, even if you'll never read them, 

and if you do, be it over someone's shoulder.

your disengagement is unwarranted and honestly unattractive 

because we are not worth comparing.

the feelings i've had 

the sadness i've created

is on me, but does not need you.

you rank high in numbers that i've never seen

but have expected to comfortably fit.

these moments are short

but your love will last long

so don't waste time on girls like me.

and though it's hard to admit

defeat comes with a price

and this is my grief i don't have to share.

yet what i want to say 

could be summoned into 

four words i know you'll like:

my dear, i surrender.

shine

i speak with sadness under circumstances grim

and i can tell she knows my tale.

the excuses i make for a hollowed soul

she dismisses with a shift in her eye.

looking through dulling green

past pale yellow strands

her brow parts and then furrows.

as i state all he is and how it's fine this time

her lips purse as words fight their way.

and through lies that i tell

to her and to me

i can hear the cowardly words i say.

the permission i've granted

compromised feelings i've shifted

brings misleading truths to her door.

she's saddened by my justification.

her mouth moves to speak 

and i break her trail slightly

for i know what she has to say.

and in depths of embarrassment i look for the answers

to make her see that i'm fine.

i know what is deserved by a heart like mine

because i've been here before.

but in ways i didn't know 

and in ways she sees me

she knows the pieces he's taken.

she tilts her head and her eyes become glossy

she's saddened by the denial i give.

i go to fight what she's wanted to say

but exhaustion has found my line.

that part of your soul that gives me hope

and the happiness you once had

has left your heart broken

and it's starting to show,

my love, you've lost your shine.

broken

words lose their meaning over time.  the word love, for example, is used regularly in exchange with a feeling we communicate.  i can write a million verses on the word and some of you will be able to relate, as it would seem that we've had similar experiences with the feeling.  i can articulate my version of hate or dislike, for we have all moved through fits of rage and dark corners of despair.  i can dust glittered particles over emotions to make you feel loved and i can throw flaming arrows that would make some angry.  the writer controls that, we get you to see emotion from our angle, leaving little room for our subjects.  

there is a word however that i can not control; an emotion that can only be described as broken.  somewhere between the poles of love and hate, closer to the latter, there are times when we must break.  you can't experience the light of love without having lost pieces of yourself somewhere along the way.  

there are people you keep near, friends.  these people will help you find those missing pieces and carefully hold them until you're ready to walk again, to move forward once again.  as to not burden you with the state in which these fragments were collected, friends keep the chipped corners of your heart hidden until you're ready to face them.  

and yet, as much as the keepers of these pieces would do anything to hold on to them, there will come a time when it is up to you, the owner, to mend.  you are in control of the wholeness of your heart and soul.  and you are the one who, in ways, allows the debris to scatter.  you permitted the broken boundary you once cared for.  nor the tears, nor the pain, nor the words spoken into you can fix what you've allowed others to break.  

and it hurts.  a hollowness that runs faster than water down a drain.  a sort of pure emptiness that takes your breath and burns holes through your core.  a realization that, again, an allowance has been made on the parts you try and keep from ever being compromised. 

however, without darkness there couldn't be light.  without heart break, you might not ever learn to love.  this cycle that we create from an early age most likely never goes away.  and honestly, the preparedness that we offer each other won't change direction for you, or for anyone.  therefore, we learn.  we re-build.  we remind ourselves why we love in the first place and delight in those thoughts. 

i can't tell you exactly how it happened but i can tell you exactly how it felt.