“You say: you are mourning a man that could not love you. Full stop. Cover the last word. There’s the truth.”

May my children never read this.

You’re rolling me in coffee hands I’m u-turn smoked rubber coming back- oh I’m spent, ask on the still.

When I reached for what I wanted, they said I left my needs behind. But if all birds need is on the ground why then do they fly?

Oh the salt water I had to sweat to realize there was an ocean inside of me.

I found my old diary tonight. A brokenness I had forgotten pen pressured so deep it punctured page. I ran my fingers over my words and there inside ridges black I found a little girl desperate for someone to save her, desperate for the very woman I have become.

This morning I tell the kindest man on earth after two dates, you are good and you are not my man. My man is not as good as you.

I know this won’t always be a good deal for me I make it anyway.

Don’t get too used to being alone.

I want to be in an Jane Austen novel with you.

God is a woman and like every woman has millions of years of men speaking for her.

I keep saying over and over. I’m sorry but I have to go now you are not my person.

I play with the nativity and tell mary she looks good in that color blue.

The day my children move out is years I can count on two hands I have them half this time years I count on one.

I took the bobblehead of him off his refrigerator and kissed it.

Go fuck yourself.

Beautiful creature its time to forgive yourself you were surviving.

When you can’t make them see the light, make them feel the heat.

Love comes and love goes.

A person who tries to make everyone happy needs happiness too.

Believe and let what goes go and what comes come. 

Don’t smother each other. No one can grow in the shade.

You have to die a few times before you can really live.

Happiness left when one began chasing it. It was always there.

We are all pencils in the hand of God.