“Broken wings may be grounded now, but they will taste freedom again.”

I constantly wonder if I’m enough, do you? Tell me I’m not alone in my insufficiency.

Walls and brick have never felt like home, the way your gentle bones do.

I want to lay down spread out and be the one to fill all the spaces empty – and occupied by her.

I breathe out light pleasing, soft, and warm – I’m still learning to breathe out fire.

Healing was not found in mending my brokenness, but in finding peace among the pieces.

How easy it was to hide from everything; everything except the truth in your eyes.

You were consumed in running away from yourself, and I was just another way for you to get lost.

Reflected eyes held pain from too many vain attempts to find love in other people.

I see the pain you hide inside you, those shadows that haunt your eyes, let tears of liquid darkness flow until space is made for light.

And still, she longs for love, when all she knows of it, is how much it scars.

Clasp me in your warm embrace, let me feel the love your eyes so boldly promise.

Hold me even closer than your shadow holds the dark; leave me in no doubt your arms are home.

I am slowly cutting you out of me, piece by aching piece.

The light of your love touches me in the hidden depths of my lonely soul. And I know beyond a single doubt, I am safe within your hold.

See the wonder that exists all around you – and know that you belong.

I push through the shadows to find you, immerse me in the light of your soul.

And I cant deny – you’re the lesson I’m willing to love in this life.

On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven a perfect round.

Somedays depression is tender, as though hurting is just an art; and that maybe she didn’t break me more than enough!

One who never turned his back but marched breast forward, never doubted clouds would break, Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph, Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, sleep to wake.

All the animals, the plants, the minerals, even other kinds of men, are being broken and reassembled every day, to preserve an elite few, who are the loudest to theorize on freedom, but the least free of all.

I miss hearing you smile over the phone.

Indeed — why should I not admit it? — in that moment, my heart was breaking.

I’m crazy for being the one who tries to fix the broken in you.