Risk being embarrassed. Risk being hurt. Risk looking silly. It’s all okay – feeling silly, getting hurt. Especially when the alternative is not to get kissed.

It feels so freeing: letting go. Having no expectations. Not trying to make something happen, not trying to predict the future. Just trying to live wholly in today. Choosing to be vulnerable is also choosing to be free. Sometimes I forget.

A poem:

What’s the worst that could happen?
He says no. She says yes.
They say ha-ha-ha.
Who cares, really?

What’s the worst that could happen?
You fall. He doesn’t.
(It’s never about you anyway).
And, really, who cares?

What’s the best that could happen?
That sunset is less beautiful than the moment.
Your life changes.
For a minute. For an hour. Forever.

What’s the best that could happen?
You start to believe. Again.
A prayer is actually answered.
You care. Really.

Today it’s the best. Maybe tomorrow the worst.
But today is still the best.
So, on the subject of tomorrow…
Who cares, really?

After all, tomorrow takes care of itself.
But today is all yours.

In this room, acoustics magnify the silence:

I never knew your leaving was only the beginning,

Only my beginning.

I kiss the floor just because it’s there;

I punch the door just because it’s there;

I never knew that there were two kinds of angels,

No one told me.

The lights are way too bright here:

I can see all my flaws but none of yours.

You blind me, you blind me,

And you’re not even here.

I’m standing with my heart outstretched and empty

In this room where I Love You is the gunshot

That shatters, batters, breaks everything.

You broke everything.

The lights are way too bright here:

I can see all my flaws but none of yours.

You blind me, you blind me,

And you’re not even here.

I kiss the door just because it’s there;

I punch the floor just because it’s there;

I never knew what you did and didn’t mean,

No one told me.

The lights are way too bright here:

I can see all my flaws but none of yours.

You blind me, you blind me,

You blind me, you blind me,

Oh, god, unbind me.

You’re not even here.

I couldn’t hold you, hold on to you–

If I did want to, if I didn’t want to.

Eventually, you’re out of pocket.

Whatever I may want, still we are costumes.

Play acting when I wasn’t play acting;

Covered when I was so very naked.

Leaves come and go just as quickly.

Hereafter may I know that still I am a map:

To Always Never, Never Always–

Something to look at when you’re lost.

Because some things are not.

I began as a thousand pieces,
a thousand laughs, I skipped
until I found you second light to the right
and followed straight on to morning.

You began as youth and joy
(but unhappy thoughts can bring anyone down)
until, like a sparrow, you drew near to me
to hear the story that will always belong to you.

For me, you are a synonym
for sand in a pocket of worn jeans.
You are my happy thought
and these words are for you, always-always.

Oceans apart, we stand too close together,
My hand in your hand; your hand on my heart.
I may have your wishes wrapped up in my mind,
But it wanders and I wonder and you wonder at that.

Sidling up to the seas in exaggerated effort,
With the questions at hand it’s too hard to discern–
Am I here to drown my  sorrows in you
Or to drown us both in my sorrows?

In the morning I know what isn’t true;
At night I know so shakily what is.
And I ask myself another question:
Which is the bigger of two wrongs?

To break the promises I have and haven’t made,
Nip and kiss the lips of the loss,
Mix bitter and sweet for fairness,
Betray either side and be marked?

When over is done, will relief come–
Peace can shelter or shatter a girl.
When truth is told by the truthless,
Is it still truth?

Irony calls to the questioning mind,
With a smirk so familiar and contrived:
Rights that would have been wrongs three years past,
Oceans I swam without maps (my own volition)–
Still, by not choosing, I choose.

tears kiss my cheeks

blending with the drops from heaven

Tears of a perfect sort

of love, and of romance

and of the pain which accompanies such things

The pain that I take

and feel over and over again

Like addictive things–chocolate and caffine

Because through the pain

is a feeling so devine

I can touch the stars with my fingers

and stroke a moonbeam

as my eyes sparkle

with childlike delight and mystery

and I sit down

in the middle of the street

and let the tears caress my cheeks

so painful the end of

a romance so sweet

And so many emotions stream out through my eyes

for moments and a time

curled in a ball

in the downpour of pain and my past

As the cold rain

washes the tears

from my face, and turns warm wet memories

into cold new feelings

Five and a half minutes

to wash away a loves-time of treasure

I will come back to this place

again soon–I know

and shed the unshed tears once again with my heart on the floor

And my mind’s refreshing

and my heart’s renewing

and the feelings fall out and hold me close

before they dissapear

into the starry sky

the clouds part to reveal something glorious

a new start, and a new heart

time comes with changes

and there are better things to come in the morrow

To know Truth, as she knows Experience,

Would give up to give in to that

Which is only Mystery, and ever will be.

Watch to listen to learn, only

Then will Expression fulfill its intent.

More often than anyone knows:

She would listen to listen, not to speak.

Freedom, to be found, to be loved

Is made from the balance of Hard and Soft.

To a smile, a sigh, a life

She offers a toast up to challenge them all.

Express to live, to serve, to be

Emptied out for the sake of Truth

That reads and falls between the lines

And answers with a question, every time.

(the greatest among you will be your servant). (I was naked and you clothed me). (I say to you, love your enemies as yourself). (Humble yourself in the sight of the Lord and He will lift you up). (She has been forgiven much, therefore she loves much). (They will know you by your love). (Love one another as I have loved you). (One thing I know, that though I was blind, now I see). (The greatest of these is love). (Do good to those who harm you). (Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things).

For living is to dying what I am to you.

Six months is binding, but only when it suits

Your idea of your happy life of you.

It’s recognition of a need that makes me

Arch backward to scratch your itch

It’s recognition of my need that makes you

(Timing unimportant) tell me what it is.

What you’d call a philosophy, I’d call an excuse

For love is to indifference what I am to you.

Accuse me of carelessness, accuse me of mess.

But the mirror is unbearably full of intent.

That girl at work is such a gossip, you say,

On the phone with that other girl from work.

That girl at work is so weird, you say,

Because she told you something personal.

What I’d call a philosophy, you’d call an excuse

For broken is to breaker what I am to you.

Relationship means more than a set of rules.

But what applies to everyone else, doesn’t to you

(And if you believed that you’d have to change–

Which you couldn’t possibly do).