You never know who would love the person you hide. And you'll never find out so long as you stay in hiding. For hiding isn't selective. Hiding hides you from everybody's sight. And if the person you were meant to love sees the person you're only pretending to be— would they recognize you?
The people who burn bridges to light their way are the same people who complain that they don’t have enough bridges to cross.
We were born needing care and we'll die needing care. But, let's not forget that what happens in between shouldn't be no care. For not needing care doesn't mean care is not needed. When more people who care show up living feels infinitely less unfair.
Sitting outside on a beautiful day the sun warms my skin as the wind playfully rushes by and in one cool sweeping grasp steals it before I can act It is then in but the span of a moment that I feel nothing neither warm nor cool not wind nor sun and my skin is dissolved into the world as the entirety of the world is dissolved into my skin How curious that I am reminded in but the span of a moment that stasis can be found maybe not permanently but in the spaces in between Where nothing is triggering but nothing is comforting either when wind finally arrives and sun touches down once again where all forces momentarily pause and take much needed rest before rushing again quickly to wherever they need to be next
The picture you paint in your mind as you read the words I arrange is the art we create together
The first Everybody knows of Dreams of Lusts over Forever plans for That reveals small pockets During hard to find time It’s the second The less talked about The less sexy The kind that happens From the confines of a chair That reveals entirety During time that's always been there
Don’t let the wind uproot you.
Let its best attempts
To topple, twist, bend, and break
Be the exact force you need
To shimmy your roots deeper
Into the very ground
It was plotting to yank you from.