s c e n t

I refused to wash
my hair this
morning so I could still
smell like
you.

-the White Gypsy poetry

D R I N K

drink, through those
parched and
c r a c k e d lips, a desert,
lifeless, desperate for water.
desperate for Life.

drink,
my Blood, broken
and
spilled
out
like rivers,
the kind that cleanses
your secrets, your sins.

I know you.
be broken for Me,
so that I
may flood
the c r a c k s
and wash you
clean.

drink, my child,
marry me, dance
in bittersweet release.

you are my everything.

drink,
beloved. Let my
Blood be
in your veins.
taste the
bitterness of your sins,
like whips upon
my back, taste
the sourness of your straying,
like thorns upon
my brow, for with
every drop,

I loved you more.

drink, and
remember Me.
for in my
darkest hour,
it was you
whom
I
was thinking of.

L U N A

Shut your eyes and sleep my soul
that Splenda forgotten in your pocket has made you 
artificially sweet, you know.
(it is true they say, well, you are what you eat.) 
A heart slow as honey, crystallized by fear.
comb those frozen coals, it's still frigid here.

I'm lost among the constellations, just a short journey from the moon
such craters of stagnant waters for eyes,
yet, just a spec within the galaxies,
a star burned out too soon. 

I cannot show you weakness (though I'm a hurricane inside)
yet I'll never quite be enough
a little more sacrificed with every tide, 
a tenderness washed in,
tough.

I won't keep you from winding down,
but I'll lock
you in that cage between my ribs
and hide you there even
if it kills me to forgive.

I'll go quietly, not a
single
protest of sound. 
Two hundred and thirty-four days later, you're around and
I'm still waiting for an answer, waiting for nothing new 
but I'm afraid
my pursuit of loving isn't as powerful 
as the damage I can do. 

3/6/14

I want to write you a love song
but the wind outside is making me cold, chilling my bones
a winter; permafrost 
but underneath the ground is alive.
I want to grow you a garden of pine, a shelter
of shade and sweet-smelling sap; 
a calming cup of tea, 
writing poetry while in a coma of caffeine.

Yet, I tend to forget you are in the song, 
in the clickety-clack of typewriter keys, 
that you remain in the memories in the memory of me.

For you, you are an everything. Not just a something,
but a something and so much more. 
The first laugh after heartbreak,
a cracked door. 
The stone to sharpen my dull sword. 

Maybe a lover, but for the first time a friend. 
Though there are miles of mascara stains
and doubts as dark as blotted ink, 
after the moon has circled the sky, each phase more illusive than one before
we shall see a harvest. 
the strength to keep swimming until our lungs are
filled full and 
we sink.

Whether lose ourselves to be found or, forbid, we be condemned for our sin, 
maybe if not now, we'll still begin again. 
The angels still sing love songs of alleluia 
praise God, praise God, 
Amen. 

Understanding (Written June 8, 2011)

For once I am at a cross for words

it is a place I am visiting more often

feels like a loss

like a letter I once wrote, regarded

in the midst of rush hour

I can say that I know you and

the beauty is overwhelming

Skip, scratch, repeat

My nerves will be the death of me

these are not my verbs

I could talk about my heart

say something about how it beats for you

I could thank you for dinner

but I must have missed that cue

Somewhere under your bed, I lie in wait

the scent of your shirt, the first smell of my wake

at least I won’t be alone tonight

I cry because such love songs say it all

so why do I still feel so small?

to fit in the palm of your hand

Kiss, Caress, Understand

Still I haven’t noticed

Hidden in plain view

Maybe soon I’ll be under-

standing right in front of you

This is the company I keep

This is the company I keep,
late mornings moping around in the quick sand of blankets
and sheets
of cream paper scatter the floor.
"Oh, you silly girl, you've been here far
too many times."
Before,
it was never like this.
Or maybe I'm in denial
because there's too much persuasion
hidden in

a kiss.

I think the truth is that
in some way I am a
c o n n e c t i o n
that you will have missed.

But in the evening,
the ghost of you, as plain as day
I could carelessly see.
If petals were teeth, I'd
have pulled them all
waiting to hear, yes,
"he loves me."

Maybe I'm a fool
sleeping in her own hollow
head. But never forfeiting
that slippery words
could have
lead me to a new
way of life,
(still somewhat a mess)
to say I'm okay
is to give you my
best

friend, I will be.
Hold on with those eyes of yours
and see that
I want to have you
and you,
you
will surely have





me.

Brick by Brick:

Brick by brick rebuild me
Rejuvenate my window eyes to see only the nature of grace
Intoxicate me with passion, even when my sides creak with the weight of envy
Clean the rotten floors on which I have shed Innocence's blood
Kill me, sacrifice me, so that you may live

Beloved, remember me,
Your prodigal child

Bring back the mountain air, that rushed in beneath splintering door frames
Renovate the cluttered attics in which spiderweb-thoughts tangle Wisdom
I am sick, I am sinful, but I am not abandoned
Calm the raging seas of showers, for I am drowning in the depths of the drain
Keep me, so I may be a treasure

Reaped are my ways of wandering from the fetter that bind my heart to thee
Escaping from responsibility and obedience, forgive me
Below my heart is a basement, an
Underworld of regrets, secrets; polluted by darkness
In which demons devour the only hope springing from decay
Love me through the pain and faithlessness
Deliver me, Deliverer.

Mysterious are the waters, cleansing and
Everlasting, that bring me back to life.

Wine

The best loves go sour
once fruitful,
grapes of wrath made into bitter wine
the poison-selfishness starting from the vine
Vineyard wires, the only support
and with a steely grip, they hold me to you

Your lips were once sweet
saying words I’d only dream to hear,
still drunken words, the furthest sip from sincere
I thought you turned from water
The scoffers tried to warn
I was willing to be blind and torn

You toppled me over, spilt me on the ground
I seeped into the earth, where no hands came to lift me
A broken bottle, forgotten, ignored, unsound
I still wouldn’t believe,

You’d promised me you’d keep
Your promises.

But you are the cheap wine
that untamed girls steal from the cellar
for an excuse to “have a good time”
and when you’re used up,
left in the bed of an old pick-up truck,
the morning dew, will bead on you, and

Reveal the wrappings gone,
the edges rough, forever able to cut,

yet

You’re still an empty bottle.

Crosses and Arrows

The earth is populated with billions of people. These people are broken down into categories by age, social status, religious views, etc., but one of the most important categories is gender. There are men and there are women. There are boys and there are girls. Due to the creativity, design, and nature of God, men and women were meant to live together in harmony, intimacy, and equality.

But here's the problem: We're all big, fat, selfish jerks. 

Recently, there have been circumstances that have lead me to really evaluate the relationship between men and women. There's no doubt that we have our differences; not even the most intelligent of geniuses can figure out why men and women do some of the things they do. Men claim that there is a secret hidden somewhere within the universe that will unlock all knowledge and understanding of women. Unfortunately, it's not that easy, but I am going to let all of you men out there in on why women do some of the things that we do so you can't go on being clueless and treating us like the assholes the entire male gender has been stereotyped to be. In case you were wondering, this is what we need from you:

Number one, women have these things called emotions, and they range from angry stampeding wildebeest to total aquatic nuclear meltdown. Just in case you haven't noticed, these emotions drive everything, and I mean everything, that we do. At some points in time, these emotions are extremely heightened, and can literally endanger you life, i.e. when it's "that time of the month." And as an important side note, during this said period of time, we rarely have control over our inner raging wildebeest; therefore, making a comment about how we turn into Mrs. Jekyll and Mrs. Hyde during this time is not a good idea. 

Because women are driven by emotion, women need to be and want to be understood. We don't always have to be agreed with or told we're right, believe it or not, we just want you to listen to what's upsetting us, hurting us, making us uncomfortable. When you understand where a woman is coming from, you have shown her that you care because you took the time to listen and didn't brush it off as "just a girl problem."

Secondly, like women want to be understood, we want to be fought and cared for. Women were created to complete men, to have covenant and companionship. We are your fitting puzzle piece whether you like it or not. The thing is we aren't going to fit perfectly, you are going to have to fight with us and for us in order maintain the big picture. Sometimes you even have to fight yourself. God had called men to be the head of the household. That doesn't mean that Eve stays home and does all the domestic chores and cutesy feminine crafts and has babies, or that Adam is the bread winner, grass-mowing, oil-changing, sperm donor. It means that the man would give his life to protect his family, treats his wife with respect and kindness as an equal, and makes the final decision. It means that the wife submits to her husband's authority whether or not she agrees with him, and she trusts that if his decision is the wrong one, Jesus will reconcile and extend his grace. She also encourages him, prays for him, and appreciates him. 

Thirdly, women MUST have respect. It is one of the most important things in the world to us, and I could list thousands of reasons why. When a man respects a woman, he extends the same grace, forgiveness, kindness, and unconditional love to her that Christ extends to everyone on a daily basis. If you respect a woman, she will undoubtedly return the favor. Another important side note, sex is a very important relationship aspect to men (which it should be to both parties); it was created to be the most intimate, sacred, holy of fellowships with your spouse, so why on earth would I ever want to share that experience with you when you treat me like I'm nothing more than a sack of potatoes? Just food for thought.

Finally, Men mean everything to women. Yes, many of us are confident, independent, have great careers, but our number one thing in our life is our man. When a woman is single, her girlfriends tell her the typical, "Oh girl, don't you let having a man or not define you." Well, whether we have a man or not doesn't define us, but the relationship that we have with our man validates us. A great man and a great relationship is what we want in the deepest, most secretive crevices of our hearts. For a man, it is his job and his success. Somehow we have all fallen guilty of allowing everything BUT Jesus Christ to validate us. Regardless, a woman will love her man with every ounce of her heart and do anything to keep him and make him happy. (Until the two of you have been married for quite some time, then things change a little bit, but still...) So, when something goes wrong at work, and you take it out on us, our soul is literally crushed. We feel unworthy, disrespected, and like we can't do anything right, just because of some silly words said out of anger. Men, you have the power to absolutely crush us, and maybe not even realize it. So, think about what you say, how you conduct yourself, and how you treat us whether we're friends, family, or lovers. 

Very quickly, so I'm not considered a crazy feminist, Ladies, this is what men need from you:

1. Men need to be trusted. - Men are called to be leaders. They are pressured from the days they are born to be examples and guides for EVERYONE to inspect and criticize. They are thrown right into the fire of judgement whether they're ready or not. That's no easy thing, because failure is their biggest fear, no matter what. So, encourage them, support them, and compliment them in front of others.

2. Men need acceptance for who they are and how they are. - Trust me, they aren't changing for anyone, and that's alright, because the only person who should force change is Jesus Christ, and that's because he literally knows everything. I'll let him handle my man's flaws, as well as mine.

3. Men need  to be appreciated. - Really this need goes for everyone. Humans take everything  and everyone for granted. It's like that stupid country song by Tim McGraw, "Live like YOU were dying." There's already a problem. We should go through life living like everyone was dying.

Because everyone is dying. You don't know when you or your loved one's last day is. Don't go to sleep angry. Don't say things you know will hurt someone. Don't be bitter. Forgive, forget, and find peace. I truly believe that those who live to serve lead long and joyful lives. Who in the world has ever felt bad for doing something right? 

Yes, this was certainly an attempt to allow a glimpse into the mind of a woman, of most women. There will always be exceptions to every rule. But most of all, this is a call to just be decent to people. Who knows what that girl serving coffee is going through, or what that basketball player is dealing with. We were made for each other; to support, encourage, accept, grow, help, and love.

So let's start acting like it.

Nervosa

*Published in North Greenville University's Mountain Laurel
                                                                                               

Hit the ground running
Run until exhaustion
Exhausting calorie counter
Countless, the hours
Hours that melt like Dali clocks
Clocks which spell a battle of loss

Each pound is a loss

Every night, until midnight I am running
Each stride, see clocks, sea clocks
One less, bright bones, sheer thin, my lover, exhaustion
So slim, the hours
The scale, stepper-stairs, thin air, a failure counter

My heart, a dying rhythmic counter
My life they might count a loss
But I am strong; I lie inside myself for hours
My mind racing, running
For the battle that lives there knows not exhaustion
circle-chasing perfection, around the clock

Pendulums swing, tick tock, sleep - enemies of clocks
to stand, I grasp the counter
One, two, five, six fingers bleed in exhaustion
My best  friend was a loss
She never stopped running
now, she is dead in the hours

Stop the hours
Stop the clocks
Stop the running
Stop the counter
Stop the loss
Stop the, me…exhaustion

Tomb-made exhaustion
I want to sleep for hours
My dreams are long lost
The clocks
on the counter
are still running

I…running, until exhaustion
Counterfeit the hours
Beg to bribe to…stop this scale-clock of loss

Forever_

I hope this doesn’t wake you; peacefully asleep.

I can see you as clearly as the orange and yellow toothbrush,
left on the sink like the memory card in my computer.
It holds pictures of your lips, hands, eyes.
As you slept beside me, although I worried,
it was all worth knowing you were right there.

The days that I wake, I hope to your voice,
because I have you
I know that I am worth living for.

Listen to me, let me find that t r a n s c e d e n t
place within myself
that will one day find the words,
the ones that will give you that a-ha moment,
that will make everything beautiful.

You are alive for only awhile.
And do we measure it in moments that we feel
alive, or the amount of air that’s in our lungs?

I have given you a name, I call you friend, yet we are

Something more
My entire life, I hope to spend
being here with you being there, too.
And if you aren’t, it will all be worth
knowing you’re somewhere,

with breath in your lungs.

I hope that you will see
when you stand before yourself,
you stand before Me.
You, yourself are worth living for.

Although you grow weary
from walking that line,
the one that crosses my collar bones and
hopes to die, the one the rests in my laughs
and runs on my sighs,

You are here, 

like barbells in the crook of
my ear, and bandages on bruised knees.

The time I’ve spent on them,
swirling in the s u p e r n a t u r a l,
hoping, praying, that you will know.

You are the strum in a stream.
Guitar necks prop your broken soul,
and I am praying you will know,
You are worth living for.                                                                                                       

One alone is only half the heat,
I couldn’t bear to sleep without
my feet entangled within your feet.
You keep me warm, grounded.
Like Gravity.

Here are these letters that make up words;    
I want them to tell you something you’ve
always known, I want them to keep you through
the morning.

And the next.
And the next.
And the next.

Forever.

I want them to keep you,
You are worth living for(ever).

Sanctuaries

You are fearfully and wonderfully made.
An anchor that refuses to sink beneath the dead-tossed waves.
Jesus holds you in the highest of arms,
Because even on the ocean floor on which you lie, where the deepest of sins
Are slain, His loss still drowns the flames.

Believe in the love that guides from the True North,
Even when you hide in the shell of past mistakes,
The screams of dying dreams burst forth
And the whispering wind claims your life a funeral wake.

Love has warped out of sincerity into concluding conversations,
It’s become a lazy I-L-Y abbreviation, when it’s meant for your heart,
Your soul, your strength, your mind,
For your neighbor, your spouse, your child, your God.
A color visible only to the blind.

Do not wish hell on even the bitterest enemies,
For we know not when we entertain angels,
caught as patron saints of lost causes
or lukewarm worshippers of inactivity.

Be still in the equality of sin and the unfairness of life,
A seemingly broken and scattered church-wife,
Regard the sanctuaries without steeples, missions mismarked, off course,
The crooks will steal, and the possessed pigs squeal,
But there is no evil
that could ever divorce God from His people.

So, my God is enough for me, and it is well with my soul!
For who have I but You to conquer the things I’ll never need,
Who have I but You to claim my victory?
My freedom is here, with the spirit that touches the coal to my lips,
The One that designed the most delicate of maps on my fingertips.

For even the smallest of sparrows are fed,
By faith as swift and sure as resurrected eagles mounting the morning air,
On each created crown, not one unaccounted for hair,
As a seal upon my heart, a debt paid crimson red,
I have been crucified with Christ, and

The Savior is not Dead.

A Too Familiar Place

As the world spins 'round,
I'm stuck in one place,
with a halfway broken heart
and a too familiar face.

All I see is darkness,
not even artificial light,
so I remain still and listen,
watching my faith become my sight.

I've poured out my soul
into one, broken being
for whom I struggle so,
which causes his instant fleeing.

My heart is in the right place,
but I'm doing everything wrong.
With a far too impatient being,
too far into the future I long.

I don't want to give up yet,
for fear the outcome will surely cause pain,
and with my whole heart I love,
but a strength and hope, I feign.

I cannot hope to roam once more,
but this too familiar face
is far too sick of being stuck
in this same familiar place.

The Sweetest Boy

The sweetest boy I ever met
Was a wondrous boy, still growing yet.

He told me stories of his gloomy past,
With no remorse, no looking back.

His heartbeat always lulled me to sleep,
And in my mind his smile I'd keep.

For us, I thought every love song written,
And for him I was completely smitten.

He was the star in my sky,
The wind in my wings,
The apple of my eye,
The king to my queen.

The blood in my veins,
The breath in my lungs,
The rhythm in the rain,
Sweetest song ever sung.

Any words, any language could never express,
And to him I could give nothing less,
Than my heart and my soul,
My start and my whole,
My being, complete control.

He taught me what it meant to love,
Gave me hope every day,
But I'm as fragile as a dove,
Because my heart with him will stay.

I know for him, I had to be made
And nothing on earth could have me swayed.

I love this boy, I'll scream it out,
I need this boy, without a doubt.

In my heart, I swear him to hide,
Until the very day I die. <3

I'll find you

I'd walk a million miles for you
I'd swim the depths of oceans blue
I'd fight your wars and reign supreme
For you I'd do anything.

I'd take a bullet to the chest
I'd lay down my life to give you rest
I'd give up all for just one kiss
And when I'm gone, it's you I'll miss.

Wish I could express what it does to me
When I understand that you could leave
I want your heart, I want your soul
Wanna be be the half that makes you whole.

I don't know what or when I did,
But I beg you please, me to forgive
I don't know my wrong, or my offense
So I've been shattered ever since.

I want to be different than the rest
Wanna make that heart beat in your chest
So when the morning comes anew,
I pray in my heart I'll still find you.

Dream Weaver

A boy who held a heart in his hands
Well, not quite a boy but not yet a man
The heart was as soft and tender as clay
Maybe that boy wouldn't give it away
The heart would shrivel for fear of being crushed
And that boy refused to be rushed
But he dreamt of a girl that would sing him to sleep
To hold to a heart he didn't fear keep
For his was surrounded by a cold layer of stone
Which may, in turn, have kept him alone
But in his hands, the heart began to pound
Filled with wonder and overjoyed at the sound
He ran through the snow, wild flakes tumbling cold
And within his chest, his heart became gold

- - -

There once was a girl with a surrogate heart
Held by a boy who could tear it apart
In hope of rescue, she wrote his dreams by night
But the act couldn't quite seem to stifle her fright
It was true that she loved him, silly as it seems
Always on her mind, vivid in her dreams
She'd do anything for him, he wouldn't have to ask
But fear was her pain and worry, her mask
Until one day he took off through the snow
She could hardly bear that she'd have to watch him go
She shut her eyes tight, afraid to even peek
Hoping he'd come back by the end of the week
And then she realized the ground beneath her moved
He was on a journey, and she was coming, too.

- - -

Day by day, the story unfolds
Two star-crossed lovers, two hearts of gold.

Forgetfulness

I worry about what to wear
I worry about how to fix my hair
I worry about all the little things
Particularly what the future brings
I worry about my single life
I worry about becoming a wife
I worry about the money I’ll make
And what in my world will be at stake

But I forget about the starving children
A hunger so deep, nothing can fill them
I forget about the homeless father
With help, people don’t care to bother

I forget about the widowed and broken
And all the kind words that go unspoken
I forget about Christians, persecuted
Families murdered and houses looted

I forget about the poor and blind
The innocent babies killed before their time
I forget about the abused and battered
The countless households that ended up shattered

I forget about the lepers and maimed
The wild minds that can’t be tamed
The angry and forgotten locked inside
The beautiful souls the world tries to hide

I forget about the single mothers
Paying one bill just to find another
I forget about the inmates of a county jail
And all the lost sinners facing a fiery hell

And in my worry, I find my dismay
Understanding my worries are enough for today
I forget the God that created the Earth
That made all my struggles fulfill their worth

I forget the God that is Holy and Whole
And for my life has set a goal
I forget the power of His loving hands
The obedience with which I must keep His commands

I forget the God that is my rock and my shield
And through his spirit, the power I can wield
I forget the God that was in control of the past
And the redemption He sent that will forever last

I remember the Man that died to save my soul
And the worries of tomorrow, I no longer know.

So that I Can Move Mountains

1 If I speak the languages of men and of angels, but do not have love,  
I am a sounding gong or a clanging cymbal.
2 If I have the gift of prophecy,
and understand all mysteries and all knowledge,
and if I have all faith, so that I can move mountains,
but do not have love, I am nothing.
3 And if I donate all my goods to feed the poor,
and if I give my body to be burned,
but do not have love, I gain nothing.
4 Love is patient; love is kind. Love does not envy;
is not boastful; is not conceited;
5 does not act improperly; is not selfish;
is not provoked; does not keep a record of wrongs;
6 finds no joy in unrighteousness, but rejoices in the truth;
7 bears all things, believes all things,
hopes all things, endures all things.
8 Love never ends.
But as for prophecies, they will come to an end;
as for languages, they will cease;
as for knowledge, it will come to an end.
9 For we know in part, and we prophesy in part.
10 But when the perfect comes, the partial will come to an end.
11 When I was a child, I spoke like a child,
I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child.
When I became a man, I put aside childish things.
12 For now we see indistinctly, as in a mirror, but then face to face.
Now I know in part, but then I will know fully, as I am fully known.
13 Now these three remain: faith, hope, and love.
But the greatest of these is love.
1 Corinthians 13




A heart empty, sad, and cold
Longing for a heart of gold
An examination of the self
Longing for a heart of health
Do not hold yourself to blame
Then you'll create a heart of shame

Love is not boastful nor conceited
Don't let your desire be defeated
It is not selfish or provoked
But should remain equally yoked

It keeps no records of your wrongs
No matter the hurt felt for so long
Whether I know fully or in part
The love residing in my heart
I shall learn to rejoice in truth
Relinquishing my immature youth
For a love I cannot envy
But does a soul exist within me?

Without love, nothing can be known
And so I'll spend my days alone
In learning how I'll bear the weight
I can't afford to hesitate

And now these three remain
The faith and hope to face the pain
Yet, the greatest of these is love
Only to find standards I fall short of
The standard of original sin
Still I know love never ends

Love is patient, love is kind
It's something I have yet to find
But I intend to discover
That I am nothing but a lover.

A Prose Piece I Wrote for English

What is real that isn't measurable?

Forgiveness; by far one of the hardest things to measure, how much to give, how much to receive. The power of prayer; a power so great it can move mountains and reach to the ends of the earth. Sincere forgiveness is the most difficult gift to give because not only is pardon being given and pain being released, but a piece of the heart is lost. The offender can take that piece and do whatever they wish to it; be it a continuous battering or a consistent nurturing. Prayer, the easiest gift to give; a loving request that God will work in His mightiest ways. The hardest words I have ever had to say have been, “Can you forgive me?” Equally as difficult, praying out loud has left me frightened, self-conscious, and tongue-tied because I’m too afraid of what someone might think of my requests and eloquence more so than what the Holy and Almighty Lord thinks. For some reason humans desire to hold on to the pain caused to them and return it tenfold. The sweetest release is giving it all to God, healer of hearts, and savior of souls, and being able to recognize His voice when He speaks.


I’ve heard story upon story about people whose families have been brutally murdered or accidentally killed and when the individual came face to face with the one who took their loved one, they were able to look them in the eye and say I forgive you. I like to think that I would be so confident in my spiritual walk that I would be able to do the same, but pray I’m never faced with the situation. But it scares me that even little things are hard to forgive; hurtful words, mean glances, honest mistakes. I’ve come to find that only God can mend a heart and it happens over the course of His perfectly planned schedule. I understand now that Christians suffer for many legitimate reasons; no pain is ever without cause. As humans, we like to hurt; we continually cause ourselves pain, and for what reason? For pity? For sympathy? For nothing. Through prayer, we gain wisdom; through forgiveness, we gain peace.

I have discovered that humbling oneself and asking for forgiveness, as well as, asking for God’s blessing on any situation is far more fulfilling than any method of revenge could ever be. Forgiveness isn’t a one way thing; it takes two to Tango. Both parties have to recognize they were in the wrong; one for holding a grudge, bad thoughts about the offender are inevitable, and the other for trespassing against their friend, intentionally or unintentionally.

Sin is an awfully ugly thing; inherently instilled within our genetic make-up. Neither can we escape it, nor redeem ourselves when in the wrong, being almost every moment of our lives. But for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction that occurs. For every sin, there is a grace so beautiful, it’s truly unfathomable. When beginning to grasp the immensity of this concept called grace, brokenness and a new desire to be obedient to God as He has been obedient to every lowly sinner burns within the soul and heart and mind.

My sins are real, but immeasurable. God’s loving grace is real, but immeasurable. And for that, I am immeasurably grateful.



Ephesians 3:20-21 “Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.”

Reflection

A rainy night
Through foggy windows
A heart so light
Sexual innuendos
A boy in plaid
A man in mind
And for you I will find the time

Unaware of what to do
Yet a desire to be here for you
At first it felt to be ordained
And now I feel I should be blamed

Please don’t let this fall to ruin
Overhead a storm is brewing
I see a man humbled and broken
With so many words that go unspoken
I want to speak and prick your heart
So that we may end this endless dark

For perfection, I never asked
Just for a loved to go unmasked
In God’s image you’re beautifully made
Through Jesus Christ your debts are paid

I cry and hope and think and pray
You won’t so readily runaway
A hunger burns within my soul
For my halves to be made whole
For all I wanted was a friend
My heart I trust my God to mend

I’ve had far too many steps to take
On this long journey of mistakes
Why must this be so complicated?
For I fear my heart will end up jaded.

I’ve found my heart is prone to wander
A spiritual thief I pillage and plunder
Through poetry we speak our souls
An attraction like magnetic poles
And on a ship we’ll sail away
Into a dawn of a new day

You wish, a heart light as a feather
You hope, hidden within a stone
Guarded mores so now, however
It could cause you to end alone

Through constant prayer I want to find
A desire to unite heart and mind
So I sit and try to wait
For this worry to dissipate

But everything can be redeemed
And return to how it once had seemed

For your soft lips, I still long
How could such chemistry be so wrong?
Sinful desire, a playful tease
Wanting you to want me to fall on your knees

The ink on your arm speaks vivid and true
An unfolding mystery without any clues
Don’t you forget to remember me
Whatever happens is what’s meant to be

But with our kisses, I have yet
Found everything I do regret.