Of all the paths in my mind,

Memory’s lanes criss-crossing the landscape of my soul,

There’s a special pain when I stumble over yours –

loss, hurt, and regret in unison.

How can you haunt my steps as I walk through my own head so,

And yet I know I don’t haunt yours in return?

I find it hard to really try my best at anything.

It’s not the failure I’m afraid of;

But if I open myself fully, hold nothing back, 

Show you the truest, deepest, brightest part of me,

The star of my soul and the gem of my heart,

And it still isn’t good enough

Then what am I?

Fear is just pain in advance.

This has been my philosophy for years. 

But unfortunately I don’t have anything clever to say

When the pain is worth being afraid of.

Because the pain of the heart cuts and burns and stabs and screams

And gritting my teeth never did ease it.

My heart is a half circle –

Incomplete, wide open, ready to be filled.

Sometimes it holds tears, sometimes joy,

But there is always room for more.

Maybe a closed circle would be safer, prettier, more perfect.

But two halves make a whole

And I’d rather share this circle with you.

Grief doesn’t act like a clock, neatly ticking the night away.

It swarms like stinging bees.

It creeps up, ghostly, a sudden thrill.

It crashes as a meteor, apocalyptic.

Someday there may be fewer swarms, ghosts, meteors.

But no chimes sound, for the night does not truly end.

When the song in your soul goes silent

It’s okay to ache for what’s lost.

But where there’s breath and a heart that beats

Eventually there will be music again.

It might not be pretty; it might begin as a scream.

But *something* is there-

Life is too noisy to be silenced for good.

Every part of my heart wants to be heard

Not because what I am is so important

But because my message is one of joyful gratitude.

All of life is a love letter to living, to the universe, to all that is

And our time is so short

We must say thank you and goodbye while we can.

I just want something to hang onto.

Why can’t the world hold still?

The waves keep coming in the swirling storm

And I’m choking on froth and the ocean’s foam.

If I can’t find peace and the chance to breathe,

Then at this rate, I never will.