A timeline

Learned. These years. All the things I was supposed to have learned. All the things I learned instead. Every fact colored with an overlapping reality. I cannot separate them.

A timeline

A thought train, three cars

The present… what a stupid word. It’s too nice. Too shallow. It makes light of what has been trauma and tragedy. It is a failure of a word. Failing to capture the depth of experience and the veracity of the colors that painted it.

A thought train, three cars

Dear doctors,

I think there may be this thin understanding of life and death that lies here. The treasure. The cherishing. The inevitability. The ending. All finely intertwined. Both defining the other. Each making the other significant. One breathtaking. The other… breathtaking.

Dear doctors,

All the invisible things

It was sacred. It was an invisible world. An alternate universe. This same world but flipped upside down. Familiar infused with foreign.

All the invisible things

Stomach flu and funerals

We don’t handle hard things very well. We don’t move toward them. We avoid them, we turn slowly to not disturb the peace and then walk in the other direction.

Stomach flu and funerals

I prayed today

My hope is that contradiction does not necessarily equal deception. That it is ok to let both of these pieces sit inside of me even if it feels like two beta fish living in the same bowl.

I prayed today

My parent's house

My parents house/ Well that’s just bad grammar/ My parents’ house/ But that’s not quite true/ My parent’s house/ Yes I’ll be there too

My parent's house

Eighty degrees

So I want to ask… Are you out there too? What’s your heart feel like today? Is it broken? If it is, can I help you hold the pieces? Even if I can’t help you put them together, can I just hold them with you?

Eighty degrees

Big brown eyes

This seems bigger than me. What I’m trying to write. Usually I start moving my fingers and go from there. I can’t seem to get the first sentence out. So this is my excuse of a hook. Forgive me; I know it’s not a good one.

Big brown eyes
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My hurricane heart

My hurricane heart/ It broke apart/ It’s strange though/ How my skin’s still whole/ That you can’t see/ What’s breaking me

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My hurricane heart
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We didn't know what it would be like

Time is supposed to heal our wounds, but I’m worried all it will do is diminish the significance of what we had.

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We didn't know what it would be like