little blurbs, thoughts

I loved every indentation you made in my impressionable heart
Because it meant you were becoming
a part of me


Who i am

You will not know who I am until

you stretch your toe to the deepest point of my sole

your hands feel the eclectic pulse of my still heart

you are stopped by the catch in my throat.

This is who I am:

Wandering wondering who we were.


barefoot souls

Words and shouts fly around, piercing nonexistent silence.

They hit like a hot bullet on skin,

only here it’s hitting the ears.

Not harming the drums, but harming something worse.

something better, something more important.

These words aren’t spoken lightly–gravity¬†brings it



Somehow everything that has been collected in the mind

spills out through the mouth and through the air and

finally into the heart, the soul.

And not of a shoe, although it might as well be because shoes

fly around too.

No pathway is taken barefoot;

it’s too dangerous to expose those soles,

these which are untouched and fresh with no calluses.

But my soul is nothing but barefoot, walking on the earth feeling each bump

each crack each root each leaf each tiny puddle

It doesn’t harm just a shock

A gentle reminder that I’m still alive just stripped

of all my dignity and my trust and everything I hoped I would have by now.

I don’t have it anymore.

I never had it any more

than she did.


House or home

This house is a house. It stands tall and it has a foundation, windows, air conditioning, an oven, plates, beds, showers. Everything you need.

But it doesn’t have what I want it to. The most important thing.

It’s a house, but not a home. If home is where the heart is I want to go home.

let me go home–let me find home and find love and find myself.

I need somewhere to belong and I need to know where that where is.