claimed

All  of creation obeys without hesitation,
And here I am, with blood on my hands
And there He is, the first one to stand declaring,
“She’s mine.”

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There’s this utter weakness within my brittle bones. It’s a weakness that isn’t just a physical lacking, but an emotional cornerstone, supporting my belief that the oxygen I’ve used in my lifetime was stolen from someone else. And this weakness swirls simultaneously amidst these violent waves within me that are too strong. My veins are pulsing, and I feel too hardened and broad to handle anything delicate or lovely. I’m storming through everything in life, turning luxurious memories and pleasures into dust underneath my heavy feet. My frail heart can’t handle for its breath to be taken away and my body is hardened to the summer rain that tries to kiss my skin.

I want to try again

I’m sorry for turning you

A    R   O   U    N    D   A   N   D   A   R   O   U   N   D   A   N    D   A   R   O   U   N   D   A   N   D   A   R   O   U   N   D   A   N   D   A   R   O   U    N   D

making you stumble and fall.

But I’m even sorrier for getting upset when you don’t see me, after you finally stand back up again.

You’re one of those songs
Leading me to the apple orchards
Unlacing my sneakers
And whispering “let’s go”
You sing as we leap through the trees
Breathlessly, I let out a love filled sigh
Whimsy fills my lungs
As I open my mouth to sing along

I. I am ’(almost)’ personified. 

II. My lungs can’t handle for their breath to be taken away
because the oxygen I’m breathing these days
is borrowed anyways.
It hesitates to enter in because it’s apparent
that this element
isn’t in its element
in my element.

III. When you continuously repeat a word
it starts to sound mispronounced
and I wonder if that’s what happened
whenever people told me i’m worth(y)

IV. Inhale.
Exhale.

V. I know that life is just a shot in the dark with Thee, but
dammit, God, do You even hear my pleas
for some sort of ‘yes’?
or even a ‘no,’ I don’t care where We go;
I just want to know.

What’s the difference between a missionary and a lover?

I feel like a fool
For planning a trip to the Grand Canyon
And dreaming of Christmas
In North Carolina mountains

When I answered the phone
With a choked hello
My heart already knew you had called to say
You weren’t coming home
(to me)