“There’s a mystery in you; a puzzle to solve- mystical elements to a love that you’ve longingly ached for.”

Your words once a melody, now read like an obituary.

I’m used to falling, calling out timber right before the impact.

I’ve been afraid to look at the woman in the mirror. Everyday she looks less and less like me. It makes me wonder if I’ll ever find my way back home.

If I had a wishing well, I’d wish you well. That the skies hold the key to all you’ve ever wanted, with or without me.

It wasn’t enough fading under surfaces, below waves, swollen pufferfish retracting this inflated love that not even you could believe in.

I hide behind olive branches. So afraid of others knowing what lay beneath the broken rifle. The reality hitting the pavement like bullets that stem from war.

The moon may bring peace, but the sun, she offers resilience.

And when I walk alone, I speak in deaf tones. I’m screaming and no one knows, no one knows. No one pays attention to where the sound goes.

Remember me in burnt coffee mornings, warm hugs, fresh sunday snow. Know that you loved me too cautiously.

The autumn breeze carves out an ache in your memory.

Caution! This vehicle stops quite frequently when overwhelmed.

I miss you a little less each day. You’re just a faded memory now – delicate; tucked away.

You are worthy of feeling incredibly and unapologetically alive.

What a shame – how the taste of you could rot even the cedar and cypress. How you fooled the redwood into believing narcissus’ pond was made for two.

It’s time for me to dust off this weary heart so that I may open it to one whose only open to me. You’re going to miss me when I’m gone and it’ll be too late.

My god is a moment, a whimsical idea, a whisper. A hope bending itself into a prayer.

God never breaks His promises.

You have to learn the rules to be able to know how to break them.

I closed a lot of doors, that used to be wide open. Bolted them shut so you couldn’t break them down again.

I miss you a little less each day. You’re just a faded memory now – delicate; tucked away.

The purpose of the guru is not to weaken your will. It is to teach you secrets of developing your inner power, until you can stand unshaken amidst the crash of breaking worlds.

I’ll be your wild horse that you can ride until I’m broken.

Whenever you try to break God’s moral law, you end up breaking yourself and hurting others – all while proving His law in the process.

When we talk about settling the world’s problems, we’re barking up the wrong tree. The world is perfect. It’s a mess. It has always been a mess. We’re not going to change it. Our job is to straighten out our own lives.