This is my secret place.
This is where I hide from
the chaos of the world.
This is where peace is sought,
not often caught,
but when found,
solitude.

This is my secret place.
This is where I find
the beauty in chaos.
This place is mostly safe,
not always though.
Because thoughts,
sometimes,
are dangerous.

When dust settles,
there, in my secret place,
I gather all the ghosts
that haunt me.
Greet them.
Bid them,
until then,
rest.

there’s an innocence to holding hands.
that first brush of the tip of his fingers
against my palm.
the way they glide across it,
aiming for the gaps.
the way his fingers curl,
almost hesitantly,
as if i am delicate,
as if holding me too tightly
will break me.
because he knows,
between us,
holding hands will never be just
about hands touching.
so gently, he continues.
fingers clasping.
breath held.

so much for innocence
and the promise of more to come.

Write your thoughts in beautiful words
and let the winds carry them to me.
Write your anguish in beautiful words
and let the winds carry them to me.
Write your inspiration in beautiful words
and let the winds carry them to me.
But not your love.
Never your love.
Don’t let words tell me how your lips
will touch mine.
Come to me.
Show me.
Because no composition of words
will ever define how divine
your love tastes on my tongue.

I can string together a million words
just to let you know of all the reasons
why you shouldn’t give up.

Maybe I should,
pick all the most profound words,
assemble the most eloquent sentences
and bind them in thousands upon thousands of paragraphs
take all the ink and paper the world has to offer,
so thick it’ll keep you warm on the coldest of times.

Or maybe I won’t.

Because when you’re so used to getting hurt,
you don’t realize the people around you hurt too.

Because you feel like you don’t matter.

Then why would our words matter? Why would we matter?

We don’t.

So why do I still do it?

Because I believe my words drive the haze away.
Because I hope you’re reminded that there’s something to look forward to.
Because I think you somehow hear me in the thickness of the silence.
Because I don’t want you thinking no one hears you or sees you or just know you’re there.

But in spite of all the “I’s”
There is a you that drives it.