to heal and to grow.

And the hearts the reason why. It’s always “why”. It’s always what you spit out when you say “what if”. What if I were that way, what IF I’d done this. It was never the right way if you were always cursin’ and spittin’ and making your head split about all this same old type of bull shit.

Sometimes thoughts of you, you in the past make an ache in my stomach so great, you just want to drop whatever your carrying, however wide, and worrysome you may be about letting go. but the thoughts always retreat to that great infinite answer of “no”. it’s the love that was lost, the love that was meant to be buried, buried in a hole so deep that even if you tried to dig it up years later, it’d still be covered in mounds of moist, motionless dirt. Soil that seemed so soft, so many years ago.


new starts.

a happy home is a happy girl.


nobody's home.

those saturday days when you go out of your way
& you stop by an old friend's place
just to find the house quiet
the dog's in the backyard
but he doesn't care, 'cause it's his day off.
you take out your ball-point pen; leave a note saying something like:
Came by around 12:15, nobody's home. Just popped by to say hello.
Sincerely, Me.
You do this again and again until you've tried with all your friends
Nobody's home is as warm as yours
it's been you i see first
and why i feel welcome and not alone
let me in, let me in
i'm here and nobody's home.