Goodness (Poem)

The stars say nothing.
But they trimmed me down,

And put nails in my back
Sanded my soul, and stained me with their ideals
Until I fit their shape of good.

But what if the wood that I am splinters?
What if I am only the pieces they put together?
Never seen as the whole?

I hold my power
Like a man might hold a prayer:
Desperate,
Trembling
And half-convinced it could save me

They called it anger

They called it rage
I named it grief
With nowhere to go.

I was a fool to think: 

Maybe light
Could still bloom in me,
Despite the rot that festered its way inside
So what if I am never good?

What if the fight was just a mirror
And I chose the face that stared back
Because it understood the ache?

Tell me—
Am I still worthy of love even if I am not good?
What if redemption is a story others tell about you?
But never offer it to you directly,
Do you still dare to hope?

Maybe love is not earned but endured.
Maybe being worthy is not about never falling—
But who you choose to become after the fall.

Anakin Skywalker (Poem)

I would have traded my soul for your heartbeat 
And when the world didn’t accept my bargaining chip
I gave it, I set it aflame 
I loved you like Icarus loved the sun
So maybe that is why I sit here and burn
It starts as a flicker in my chest
A lighter that has too much butane 
When the flame is lit
It travels through the roadways of my heart
It ends in my hair 
Maybe that’s why I cut it all off when you left 
I became a shell of a man 
Looking for you in every constellation star 
And every passing car 
The spark that you set 
Smothered out
The embers of our love lay lifeless around my body
Is this how I become a memory that fades away like smoke? 
Is this how I lose myself completely? 
I get lost when I can’t find you on a map
I scream at house fires
I try to find you in them
My bones wrapped in regret
My rage buried deep in my chest 
With your dying breath, you held onto one of my cinders
An echo of “I know there is still good in him” 
A whisper of hope

Letting You Go (Poem)

Letting go was never something I did well

I was always better at holding on

My hands have from rope burn from holding on too tight

I was always better at holding on to things that were already halfway out the door 

My fingers have calluses from things I should have just let go

I recently learned that calluses are just tough skin 

Skin that had too many things trying to penetrate it 

Just like you with my walls that I put up so high

You weaseled your way under my walls

Into the space between rib 13 and 14

Directly to my heart 

I knew that when you would leave

It would feel like an endoscopy

A part of my heart removed 

I was always better at holding on, 

It was better to keep things at an arm's length

I could pour alcohol on your still bloodied hands 

At least I could keep my eye on them there

I can pretend the alcohol removes the stain

The very stain you left all over me

Like fingerprints stuck in the middle of a two-pane window

I could always see where you were, but never clean you off 

When you left, there were no tire marks out of the driveway and no new scars to add

Maybe the calluses I had built up were finally being used for good

Or they finally dug their way into my veins and affected the very source 

Maybe the calluses wrapped around my heart like a snake with its prey

Maybe I’m like Pharaoh, my heart hardened after one too many bad days 

And if Pharaoh’s heart hardened with pride,

Then let mine soften with mercy and an unspoken love

Let the parting of our Red Sea

Be where I finally learn to let go

Building Blocks (Poem)

You said you’d stay, so I built a home
I stopped holding my breath, waiting for the door to slam 
I unpacked all the boxes of trauma I would rather hide in the attic
I laid down the oven mittens, which protected me from being burned 
I painted the walls a seagreen, a color that reminds me of you 
I washed up the dirty laundry that I had hidden under the bed 
I sprayed a raindrop scent all over the pillows 
And put homemade cookies in the oven  
I hope it smells like a love that’s familiar 
You said you’d stay, so I memorized your footsteps 
How they got heavier when you were deep in thought 
The creak in the hallway that connected to the kitchen 
You never could sneak a second helping (but I let you anyway) 
I started buying used books because you said it was loved (I started looking at myself this way) 
I started making the bed in the morning, so life felt more together when you couldn’t be there
You said you’d stay, so I introduced you to Beary and my Grandpa  
I leave the light on for when you are out late
I fill a cup of water up for you to wake up to in the middle of the night
I overstock on honey and lemon for when a cold hits you hard
I memorized your silence and laughter and woven them into the curtains that hang 
I bought mugs that fit your hands, It wasn’t hard; yours are only slightly bigger than mine
You said you’d stay, so I made room in the closet 
And space in the stories for you, and all the knooks and crannies of my heart 
I’ll see you step on each floor tile because you’ve always been superstitious 
I hum to the radio and you tell me that I must have been hidden in your rib in our Genesis 
That I belong under your wing for protection and close to your heart 
I built the walls out of scripture, you always were firm that we needed a firm foundation 
The picture frames of love, some misplaced, some broken, and in the wrong spot, are still love
I built windows out of my heart (you always were able to see right through me) 
You said you’d stay, so I built a home 

The house still breathes (Poem)

There is a silence between lightning and thunder
A beat of stillness where we meet
Like a storm of love greets an old house
Loud and with creaking bones
The windows of who I am rattle
My floorboards are filled with things I’d rather forget
Echoing with footsteps of people I no longer talk to
You call it noise, I call it the sound of commitment
My walls were not built for gentleness
A child once drew their dreams there
They have nails from people trying to stay, like claw marks
And you lean against them like you've lived here all your life
You trace my chipped paint, the veins of hope that run deep within
When you, my storm rage, I break down the doors just to let you in
Cause if you remind me of anything
It is that I, too, can endure this

Texts I almost sent (Poem)

Texts I almost sent

1. I hope I never have to live a day without you
2. What are we?
3. I miss you
4. Sorry, it’s been a while, I didn’t know who else to text. I think I need help
5. Do you still like that coffee shop on Main?
6. Can we talk?
7. You made me feel like I was enough, and that was really scary
8. Is it too late?
9. Can I still have you?
10. I can’t listen to (Redacted) without thinking of you
11. My love songs I can’t prescribe are about you
12. Those poems I don’t know who are about: are about you
13. Do you ever think about that night? I play it like a favorite song I can’t stand now
14. Wanna go for a drive?
15. Can we talk?
16. You looked tired today… Are you okay?
17. Is it my fault?
18. I hate that you see me
19. I hate that you know I love the quiet, but hate it alone
20. I don’t wanna frick this up
21. I’m not leaving
22. I don’t want to just kiss you… I want to keep you
23. Are you free?
24. I hope you get home safe (it’s a 20-minute drive)
25. I wish we could start over. I promise I’d do it right this time
26. I like the rain because we found ourselves in it
27. I promise you
28. I’m not leaving
29. Your voice is comfort, and your space is safe
30. Can we try this again?
31. I wish you were here
32. Please don’t leave

His Love. my love. (Poem)

I don’t know the difference between love and love
His love is perfect and makes people feel full
My love crumbles at the seams and leaves me empty
I don’t know the difference between love and love
His love stays, gets comfortable, and makes itself at home
My love leaves at its earliest convenience, flees when things look permanent
I don’t know the difference between love and love
His love looks at me like I’m worthy of it
My love is in Hershey’s Kisses’ wrappers shoved between couch seats (deformed and shameful)
I don’t know the difference between love and love
His love carries all the loads I’ve picked up since I was old enough to help with laundry
My love is the pillars that Samson breaks and crushes the crowd with what I think is passion
I don’t know the difference between love and love
His love is full of late-night drives and “talking it out.”
My love is filled with passive-aggressive dishwashing and misread pasta dishes
I don’t know the difference between love and love
His love is whispered truths and forehead kisses
My love is slamming doors, and apologies, I draft but never send
I don’t know the difference between love and love
His love remembers my favorite flowers and why
My love stutters on “I love you” like it’s never spoken the words before
I don’t know the difference between love and love
His love is patient, and waits until I’m ready to talk
My love paces in the hallway, chokes on what I said wrong. “Please just talk to me, so you stay.”
I don’t know the difference between love and love
His love knows that my favorite coffee is peppermint mocha
My love knows heat always leaves a burn
I don’t know the difference between love and love
His love is in the way things are said, but never spoken
My love is always too much or not enough, like a storm that can’t decide its strength
I don’t know the difference between love and love
His love is chicken noodle soup and crackers when you're sick
My love is like a bad apple; it looks sweet but rotten on the inside
I don’t know the difference between love and love
Or maybe I do