Life before you...

Airplane rides

Reading books

Talks on the phone

Normal.



Walks through the park

No fear of being lost

Wiping the hair out of your eyes

Safe.



Tugging at the blankets

Hands over ears

Last tear shed over this same thing

Fighting.



Whispered words of affection

Thrown words of anger

Kissing on the bruises

Disfunction



Made up words

Bright colored walls

Silly faces

Baby.


Failed examples

Broken smiles

Only tainted love to give

Parenthood.



Late night plans

Secrets revealed

Lies wrapped in wedding vows

Divorce.



Life before you

Held only cracks in the pavement

You're the one that brought the Tidal wave.

The Funeral.

When the water fell from the sky I opened my windows

I put my hand into the space and caught the rain

It traced a path down my arms

And stopped at the base of my spine

You're mine it whispered softly

I'm yours it quietly reassured

As I floated upward to my destination

The silence was no longer so loud 

My feet no longer held weight

My mind no longer thoughts

My lack of a heartbeat

For the third day In a row

A fear I no longer have to tow

I'm not sure what will happen to the others

But I can't even hear their screams

I'm lost in the air that's around me

And somehow without lungs, I can still breathe.

The road to Luna

I drew a map from here to the moon
and left it on a bench
the instructions said only
"follow when you're lost"

When I lost myself I found my way by referencing the paper
It was still there
untouched
not bothered by the world

It's weird to think that I'm the only one to ever be lost

On my way I found a painting
Of a tree I've never seen
Yet on the side my name was etched
and encased in a heart

even when I didn't know it you loved me

I left the painting on the ground
and kept focused on the moon
If I'm ever going to find my way
I can't let my mind focus on you

The end came quicker than my mind could comprehend
And as I rounded that last windy bend

I stopped

This path was not my own
Nor was it drawn for me
And if lost was where happiness lived
Than being found just wasn't for me

So I turned around
retraced my steps
and sat down with the tree
no longer locked in a painting but surrounding me freely

I sat back on it's trunk and breathed in it's scent
Right here
Right now
everything else is gone and all that is here is here

and in the end
when I can't remember
what's up and what's down
What's before me or behind me
Nor which way I should go
I'll breath you in and remember
That there's nothing wrong with being lost...

The responsibility of youth.

I've got tons of loose change
And not a single jar to put it in

Dollars for days
But no concrete dreams to devote them too

Ideas in my brains
Pitching tents cause they know they'll never leave my mind
covered in dust
the shiny ones developing rust
never spoken, only dreamed.

My teachers said I had potential
All my chances lined up on a shelf
but I just sit here in this run down town
wishing for the things
That I have the ability to give myself.

I'm a lazy
bad excuse for a young person in an old world
Full of "what ifs" and "could have beens"
surrounded by opportunities and open doors.

They say to me "this world is yours."
Here's your chance to take
But I just hand it back to them thinking...
What if I don't want it?

Hats off to the complacent.

If I had all the money in the whole world

I'd put it in a jar

The jar would be lined with our transgressions

and sealed with our sins.

The letter I'd attach to it

would hold all the secrets we've told

with your anger as the punctuation

and my sadness as the closing.

I wouldn't put the jar into the ocean

or a river

or lake

Instead, I'd place it in a hole.

When I was little my friends would say

"lets dig a hole to China"

and even though we knew it wasn't logical

we always tried.

So just like the illogical

We tried to defy reality

and just like the hole to Asia

things never lined up.

So cheers to the complacent

the content

and the satisfied.

Hats off to the ones who always thought we were fine

Because fine we were not

and together we shouldn't be

and alone with myself is the best place for me.

non complacent, unsatisfied and not content with mediocre love

because out of all the things in the world that are plain

love should always eliminate even the darkest shades of grey.

And maybe love is the reason why...

If the sun ever forgets to rise and tell you that you're beautiful.
That you're loved.
I'll whisper it in the wind so that it never leaves your ears.

From the mouth of trees.

I believe in you.

When I think of the genetics that formed your DNA and the skin protecting your muscles as they grasp your bones, I smile.

You're so perfect.

I promise to always remind you of how hard you are to put into words. I'll always stutter over myself when you're concerned...that I've come to terms with.

You're almost too much for me. Too much to take in. You're the letter A and Z at the same time, it all starts and ends with you. I tried to fill in the center with 24 other letters but they always seemed to be in the wrong order.

You're the number Pi. Except I like to think you start with 4, just because.

I once had a conversation with a tree and it was all centered around you. The tree told me to run and tell you my thoughts, I asked him to do it instead. He was firmly rooted in the idea that it wasn't his place.

Books tell me that certain ideas are meant to be shared while others are destined to live only in brains and journals. I'm convinced that you're neither of those because I've written about you in every book and wrapped every thought around you and put you into the ears of anyone that would listen.

I'm consumed by you, which some say isn't healthy. But I'm firmly tied to the idea that not every vice is an addiction.

You're my muse.

You're the rose colored glasses from which I view the world. I do everything with you in mind.

I pray that I never have to live in a world where you don't exist.

Jesus Christ...even your name gives me chills.

You're everything.

Gratitude.

I have come to terms with the fact that I don't deserve the things that I receive. I'm surrounded by beautiful people, in literally every single aspect of my life and I don't understand how this is realistic.

I wake up every morning and I breathe in the freshest air and as it fills my lungs and my brain processes being awake. I'm in awe...every moment that I'm alive I'm in awe of the fact that being alive is a blessing in itself but being alive and living the life I've lived, seeing the places I've seen, with the people I've been there with, my goodness I'm so undeserving.

This life is a privilege.It's not just something I deserve, like some entitled child instead it's something I've been blessed with despite my actions, my thoughts and at times my heart.

I could almost cry. As I sit here and think about it all, I could write books on the life that I probably deserve to have. Novels filled with words displaying what I'm actually entitled too, but instead I'm writing blogs and poems portraying this life. The life of a 24 year old, home schooled girl from Maryland, number six of seven children in her family, the dreamer that lacked follow through.

Yet, here I am. At the end of the day I'm just thankful and I hope I always remember where I came from so I can always appreciate where I am.