And the Child Cried,

“It’s the day before the end of the world

And the sky is raging.”

Take me now, God.

Take me now, because I think what’s about to come

isn’t gonna be pretty.

Some moments are going to be breathtakingly beautiful. 

Like the rain today.

That was stunning.

I thought,

Everything is going to be OK.

But, truth is,

Everything is NOT going to be OK.

And that scares me.

Because when I fall apart, I have to be the one 

to put myself back together.

No one’s going to be downstairs, taking care of the world,

while I take a break and run away from everything else 

because all I can hear

Is the screaming inside my head.

Boys? That’s what you’re going to miss? Boys?!

Well, I’m going to miss my sounding-board for sanity 

living right down the hall.

And right now, I’m starting to crack.

That peace I knew couldn’t last, and yet,

I hoped it would.

And she’s cracked all over the place. 

So how am I supposed to find my sunlight reflected

in someone else so dark? 

Warning!: Girl in Progress, 2 more feet needed.

At Least I Got My Hair Cut

Lately I've been craving potatoes
and God.
An afternoon spent entirely by the pool,
and a summer whose end fuzzes into eternity.
Food that tastes good and new books that take me away.
I've been craving our lost boys
and our lost childhood.
Our lost innocence but
not our lost fear.
I've been craving time and productivity
but I just sit here, wondering when I'm going to do anything about it.

Dear College...

Oh, hello.

I guess I’ve got to meet you now.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got nothing against you as a person,

I just really don’t want to be friends.

Frankly, I don’t see the need. 

I could wait another six months to meet you and wouldn’t be any worse for the wear.

But I don’t think you’re really going to pay much attention to me.

You’re supposed to remember all these kids-millions of them.

How can you be friends with all of ‘em?

I suppose you bully some, you ignore a fair bit, and some you only care about

when you pass them in the halls.

But I’m one of those people that changes the people she is friends with-I take you on adventures, and so I don’t think you’re gonna be able to ignore me.
But sometimes I don’t think before I act or speak and so

being friends with me is going to hurt sometimes.

But I think being friends with me means you are going to know a bit more Broadway than before, see a bit more raw emotion, watch more of the ever-present girl-meets-boy, and learn more about
what makes us beautiful.

Because I already know what makes us human.

But beautiful? I don’t know.

Maybe your job is to help me figure it out.

In other words...

This one's for your heart, boy.
'Cause I'm giving it back to you, but I want you to know that I'm not returning it due to stains, broken parts, or malfunctions while in use.
It was too much.
It was too much so I'm giving it back so that someone else will find it and be blissfully in love.
                   Because, really, that's all you deserve.
And people have written songs and poems and books about it, but it won't be right 'till you hear it from me-

I just can't do this.

And I'm sorry for every letter typed, word spoken, muscle motion that told you otherwise.
I thought, maybe, I could.
But things never go as you plan and so I'm breaking this-
and it will shatter; I know that.
But I promise you deserve more than what you're getting-something tells me you know it, too. And you don't deserve to get hurt like this but I'd rather this than hurting you infinitely worse by keeping my mouth shut.
You told me you wanted this.
            Truth.
It's supposed to set you free.
Free, you say? Free?
That's a crappy word for hell.
But this isn't a band-aid I can rip off quickly and the pain dies in seconds. Really, it's a heart bursting.
               And bursting hearts? 
                                They HURT.
So take your time. It's all yours. Emotion, time, forgiveness,
I'm not expecting any of it now-be hurt.
Cry and scream and hate and wonder and ask and regret and grasp for the past...
but know, when you're there hurting,

                       know that I know.

And know that that's what makes this hard.
Because we're coming in a circle here, but don't you see?
This is the worst, because
                    You don't deserve this.
But everything I just told you you already know, and somehow, I thought by telling you I could ease the pain, but time's the only thing for that.
So take your time and take your tears and I honestly, truly wish for the clouds to clear and the sun to smile and for you to find somewhere along the way a girl who will fall in love with you deeper than you ever imagined.
Because really, you don't deserve anything less.

The nighttime frees the soul

I looked up at the sky-
I don't care.
Let's forget about him and her.
We were so alive.

Starlight, Starbright

The Christmas tree whirred with gears,
the train circled its track around the merry little village,
and I was not afraid.
It was not complicated that night.
The world was so, so small.
Lit by low holiday light,
and I felt genuinely precious.
I was at home and delighted by everything-
we stacked the prophets one by one, and
one day your face will be on it.
We didn't leave until she was done,
because we had time,
because I adored her and everything else.
The world was so, so small.
The air was filled with little children and magic and safety.
I was fed and sheltered and welcomed.
I came from a faraway land,
but it was home.
We danced from corner to corner,
room to room,
you feeding my voracious appetite for quiet delight.
I didn't care about time, or worries, or trouble.
The world was so, so small.

372 by Emily Dickinson

After great pain, a formal feeling comes –

The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs –

The stiff Heart questions ‘was it He, that bore,’

And ‘Yesterday, or Centuries before’?

The Feet, mechanical, go round –

A Wooden way

Of Ground, or Air, or Ought –

Regardless grown,

A Quartz contentment, like a stone –

This is the Hour of Lead –

Remembered, if outlived,

As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow –

First – Chill – then Stupor – then the letting go –

The secret of the sunflower revealed: Pineapple Juice