they whisper past
rustling a dream
forgotten by morning

Memories are a funny thing. Our brains take bits and pieces of events from our past, splice them together and call it a memory. They are more feelings rather than concrete images. I don’t remember kindergarten but some flashes of being misunderstood and alone. I don’t remember my best friend’s face but the feeling of shock standing at her funeral.

Past memories shape our future reality. We take all those bits and pieces of our past selves, add some water, and hope that we can shape the clay into something we recognize and can relate to. Maybe it will even be good enough to show other people.

I think the worst of all are all the things I do remember that I wish I didn’t. The embarrassing mistakes. The lies I didn’t get away with telling. The anger over a trivial slight. We seem always to remember the bad while the good slips by us like a gentle breeze through the trees. We know we felt it, we just can’t remember.

embellished. exaggerated. 
told over and over
so someone else remembers.


it comes in time.
a thousand kisses
on forbidden lips.

you waste away
where, in silence,
you are laid to rest.

one who,
if death were the end,
could not be saved.


i sit here alone
in gray shadows.
i cry these tears.
no one knows.
the pain is
breaking me.
letting out my
desperate cries.


beauty is
the sparkle in your eye
after you’ve told a dirty joke.

joy is
cleaning up the mud you tracked in
after dancing in the rain.

peace is
curling up under a
blanket fort in the living room.

wellness is
enjoying the last spoonful
of mind chocolate chip.

life is
the unexpected, the messy,
the rain, and the sparkles.


the souls of those who
i have touched
with my broken heart–

the sharp edges
now help
keep them away.


why can’t i ever say
what i’m thinking
to the people close to me?

everything just
in here.

all my words are written
on pages
they never see.