i am the cracks on the front porch
he is the ants crawling inside and out
you are the water drowning us all
thank god
ending it all
i am the blades of grass in the yard
you are the wind
swaying me back and forth
and i love you

I used to believe in more than myself and more than this world. I would think of my mother and imagine that she had ascended into another existence. I grew to hate my existence. But there were times when I looked upon the beautiful night and it took my breath away. And in those moments, I knew that this was a blessing. To even breathe. And I truly believed in the human ability to become more like the dusk and dawn. So quiet. So true.
I had forgotten the spirituality of letting everything go and simply let myself just exist.
To look at the sky and mountains and stars is a blessing.
To feel the rain and wind and dirt on your feet is a joy.
To taste the tears on your face and the loves of this world is a luxury.

when i was younger, i breathed in the spring
and felt the warmth pass through my feet
i ran through the grass that had long since been green,
and picked all the flowers alive close to me
i knew the creatures were treasures to be
i knew the sun and my time on the swing,
was spent with the birds
my arms to match wings,
of which i adorned as gifts from small things
and then i met you and first craved the winter
wearing your gaze to warm me and shelter
your skin, unlike mine, was pale like the hatter
your dark hair grew darker
your crazed eyes aglimmer
to which i mistook the shining for summer,
when your luster and glare were morbid and bitter
the fire i lit within you grew bigger,
but you, a black hole, to eat and then wither
taking my all to return ever favor
as empty as gardens, dead, prime to splinter
to hold and to cherish, your bride, the sinner