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The First Draft

"Write drunk; edit sober."

Your eyes only

My love,

My heart aches for you. That will never stop. I will never understand what you’re going through, yet I empathize with you always. Your family is mine, and mine is yours. Your heart the other half of mine. So as I listen to you pour your heart out though these troubling times, all I can do is be a shoulder to lean on and friend. And hold back tears, because it is not my place to feel sadness. I must be strong for you, because you have been so strong for so long for everyone else. I will never understand why it is the people with the most pure, kind hearts who get stepped on the most. I pray to God He can relieve you from your pain, because at this point, He is our only hope. You and I are merely mortal, and I don’t know where else to turn. I’ve never experienced such anger and heartache and evil. I would do anything to help you in this time, but I am helpless. I can’t even hold you and tell you it will be ok. The truth is: I don’t know if it will ever be ok. I don’t know anything anymore. I only hope and pray that this is the last of the storm to pass through before we reach the end of the clouds. And you are so strong. Stronger than any person I have ever known. No one should go through what you have, yet you’ve done it with grace and maturity. My heart goes out to you. I love you always. 

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Stuck in a bubble

I don’t understand how the rest of the world can continue with their lives as the lives of those around me are crashing down.

How I see people in the streets celebrating and smiling when I hear every day of a new reason to cry.

When the happiest person I know loses faith, and the smile falls from his face, yet others haven’t the slightest clue of his pain. 

And I can’t do anything.

All I can do is live. Or I suppose, pretend to. Go through daily activities​ as a zombie. 

Because I can’t protect the hurt. And I can’t mimic the happy. I can just watch from the outside as though I’m stuck in a bubble. 

Where I once was

For as high as the heavens are above the earth,
      so great is his love for those who fear him;
as far as the east is from the west,
     so far has he removed our transgressions from us.

Psalm 103:11-12

I am not where I once was.

I am reminded of my selfishness. My bitterness. My jealousy.

I am reminded of those that I’ve caused harm.

But I am also reminded of how far I’ve come.

I think twice before I speak.

I put others before myself.

I love with all my little heart can give.

I have found something that has redefined goodness.

I am not where I was once. Nor will I ever be there again.

I am distant from that person. She’s just a memory.


In response to the daily prompt – Distant

I’ll just hold you

I’ll just hold you until it all goes away.

The bad. The tears.

I’ll hold your head against mine in the hopes,

That if I hold it tight enough, I can fix it all.

As your tears soak my shirt,

I can feel your heart beating against mine,

Swiftly. Trying to make up for the pain between your breaths.

I would wish anything on myself so you can be healed in this moment.

But for now I’ll just hold you in my arms.

—————————————————————————–

Written for someone whom I very much wish I could be holding in this moment.

Drowning

I could feel my face getting red. I was holding it in for too long.

He was looking at me, waiting for a response.

Just breathe. Focus. It doesn’t have to happen this time. 

Only thirty seconds had past, but it felt like an eternity. God, why couldn’t he just leave me alone.

I opened my mouth to say something but I retreated only to a deep breath to gather myself.

Are you alright, love? He repeated.

3, 2, 1. Detonation.

The dam had over flowed. The waterfall began to cascade.

The tears had started. And I was drowning.


In response to the Daily Post, detonate.

The Earth cries tears of red

The Earth cries tears of red as she mourns for her inhabitants.

Mother Nature sees no color, unaware of why the people kill one another because of religion and race.

Another son left on the battlefield as his family hopefully awaits a return that will never come.

A father out for a stroll, never thinking he’d become a statistic on the news.

A daughter who went to class eager for show-and-tell but left with a traumatic vision of a man with a gun.

So many broken hearts due to ignorance and lack of empathy.

So many broken bones and crushed souls and fear.

Fear that crosses borders. That looks past skin color. And gender.

It seems the only thing we all have in common anymore is the fear that strikes into our very beings when we hear about the latest tragedy.

The Earth mourns for her inhabitants. She dies just as we do.

Half

Life seems half empty,

Half sad,

Half cold,

When half of your heart

Seems half a world away.

The Hopelessness of a Romantic

hopeless (adj) 

     feeling or causing despair about something

Am I still considered a “hopeless” romantic if I’ve gotten everything I could possibly hope for?

There’s nothing hopeless about the situation.

Why is it always “hopelessly in love?”

I am not hopelessly in love.

I am blissfully in love. And joyously in love. And enthusiastically, freely, unequivocally in love.

How dare you degrade my love to being hopeless.

 

Be you for the first time

How many times did it take you to realize that who you are when they’re around is not who you are?

You believe in matters bigger than their thoughts.

One day you woke up and decided you didn’t want any of this.

Your childish social encounters up to this point no longer mean anything. It simply gets in the way of what you’d rather do.

One day you decided take off the mask, and you decided to be you for the first time.

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