But I never did know
if you were for me
or for everyone else.
Just as I am.
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Tag: Journal
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And I Still Don’t
Posted at 7:40 pm , on January 16, 2017
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Would it make a difference?
Posted at 11:29 pm , on December 31, 2016
What if we didn’t love the wrong people during the holidays?
What if we let people in, instead of shutting them out?
What if we realized how messed up the world is? Even at this very moment?
Would our fridge still be full of food we are not going to finish?
Would you tell me that it didn’t matter?
Would you tell me that everything is going to be alright?
Would you believe it?
What if you asked a stranger “how are you?”?
What if they told you they weren’t alright?
What if you asked a friend?
What if they told you they are alright, but you know better?
What if you asked me?
What if, even with a cross around my neck, I told you I’m not? -
Happiness and Him
Posted at 5:16 pm , on November 26, 2016
What I did know,
truly and fully,
was him next to me,
his face against my own.
The music he was listening to was
way too loud,
leaking through his headphones,
and I was happy.
I guess
I wanted to believe
for once
that would be enough. -
Still Stuck
Posted at 5:34 pm , on September 25, 2016
Because the leaves were all changing
and the traffic kept rushing.
And I was still stuck in the way his eyes shone,
whenever he laughed.
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And Closer Still
Posted at 12:20 pm , on September 22, 2016
They really got to you, didn’t they?
Pushing you on towards the edges
tore apart your broken mind.
Now all you hear is chaos,
a beating drum within the ground.
Step in here, darling,
come in close, and closer still.
In you there is a fire,
and I won’t let this one be still.
Come on now, stand before me,
stretch your arms towards the sky.
I’ll stay here, yes, right behind you.
Take the step, you’ll be alright.
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Smaller Pieces
Posted at 2:54 pm , on August 28, 2016
I fall in love with pieces,
smaller pieces of their being
perks and quirks and qualities
I’m scared the world is still not seeing.
Like the way he sang along to songs
he’d never before heard.
Or the way that he knew everything,
then cried in my arms at night.
Or how he saw me beautiful
when no one else could do it. -
Just Lack of Light
Posted at 1:39 pm , on August 7, 2016
It was dark yesterday. Maybe that’s something to be expected on a Saturday in the city. The sun wasn’t shining. It was past midnight when you went out for the round.But listen to me, please. It was dark.
Dead.
They were dead.
There was no life.What?I have read somewhere that darkness is just a lack of light, so I turned around and looked for light.
Made eye-contact with the security guard outside the bar.
Dead.
He raised his eyebrows at me.
I shook my head.
I smiled.
Shy.I kept on walking, drunken laughter behind me.
“I don’t miss it”, I thought, I turned up the volume to my headphones.
Rounded a corner, past a couple of teenagers. Made sure I didn’t made eye-contact with them, too. I don’t want to know of their liveliness, or lack thereof.Passed by an empty police car outside the station. It was ready to go, but empty. Ready to save people. Maybe there had been a robbery. Maybe someone had been hurt. Maybe someone had been too angry. Maybe someone was dead. But I can guarantee you they wouldn’t take care of the dead eyes just round the corner.Ready to save people.But not quite.I shook my head. Said Jesus a couple of times because that’s all I was getting out.Across the street was a church.Also dark.So I stopped, looked at it.My grandfather tells me it’s lovely there, the best one yet. Lovely lights, lovely preacher, lovely people who will sit by your table when you drink your coffee. Who am I to argue with a seventy year old man who has gone to church his whole life?But why is it so dark?Darkness is just a lack of light.
Jesus.
Jesus?
JESUS?!I shouted it, but quietly. In my head. There are certain things you don’t shout past midnight, now a Sunday. This I’ve been told.Where are you?
“What are you doing?”“I’m writing, Mom.”
“What are you writing?”
“I – I don’t know.”
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To Write About You
Posted at 3:05 pm , on May 25, 2016
I could tell you about the bluest of oceans.
An ocean so blue you’d find calmness in its complexity,
unity in its ever-changing streams
Where peace would be found,
a place for awe, a place for dreams.
Or I could tell you about the darkest of oceans.
An ocean dark as the nights
where sleep seems to fail you.
Waves tickling your face,
then throwing your body against the rocks,
leaving you grasping for breath.
I could even tell you about the woods,
and the stories yet to be told.
About grand views and fireplaces,
of the knights riding west,
or how the wolves all went wild,
that time the moon shone too bright.
I tried to write about you,
but still the page remained blank,
the clock went on ticking,
and the night became daylight.
And no matter my efforts,
with someone like you
my words could never get it right. -
Thank You
Posted at 2:21 pm , on April 30, 2016
I wanted to thank himfor undeserving kindness,and safe, gentle arms,that time the worldgot too heavyand I was too weak.I wanted to thank him,for tears shared,and hands graspingfor something to hold on to.I wanted to thank himfor sleepless nights,voices in the darklooking for answers.I wanted to thank himfor showing me whatbeing thankful really means,and how,by simply being there,he saved my life altogether. -
New Day Dawning
Posted at 3:15 pm , on January 25, 2016
My stomach is hurtingas the deafening silence consumes me.I’ve been told it’ll soon be over,a new day dawning,but as I close my eyes,I don’t see how I’ll make it.My stomach is hurtingfrom the laughter last night.Blue marks cover my skin,from the pool cue,the creativity-draped boy poked me withto distract me from winning the game.But I did.I will.I am.
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