it's on the tip of my tongue

It's all in the little things-
small haircuts
tiny smiles
sideways glances
cups of coffee
miniature love notes
brief kisses
quiet giggles
-beautiful faith.
Simplicity
is almost always shocking
and it almost
makes things more difficult.
I feel
like I'm learning how to do this
all
over
again.
Is there any talent left
in these stained, grownup fingers?
Is there any reason still
to keep me spitting out words?
I guess in the end
it depends on the motives.
Hope is coming back again.
That's enough for me.

Not mine, but someone else's

I took my heart in my hand
(O my love, O my love),
I said: Let me fall or stand,
Let me live or die,
But this once hear me speak
(O my love, O my love)—
Yet a woman's words are weak;
You should speak, not I.

You took my heart in your hand
With a friendly smile,
With a critical eye you scann'd,
Then set it down,
And said, 'It is still unripe,
Better wait awhile;
Wait while the skylarks pipe,
Till the corn grows brown.'
As you set it down it broke—
Broke, but I did not wince;
I smiled at the speech you spoke,
At your judgement I heard:
But I have not often smiled
Since then, nor question'd since,
Nor cared for cornflowers wild,
Nor sung with the singing bird.

I take my heart in my hand,
O my God, O my God,
My broken heart in my hand:
Thou hast seen, judge Thou.
My hope was written on sand,
O my God, O my God:
Now let thy judgement stand—
Yea, judge me now.

This contemn'd of a man,
This marr'd one heedless day,
This heart take thou to scan
Both within and without:
Refine with fire its gold,
Purge Thou its dross away—
Yea, hold it in Thy hold,
Whence none can pluck it out.

I take my heart in my hand—
I shall not die, but live—
Before Thy face I stand;
I, for Thou callest such:
All that I have I bring,
All that I am I give,
Smile Thou and I shall sing,
But shall not question much.

"Twice"
-Christina Georgina Rossetti

song for a man

If I could fit the words on a page,
I'd write you every song that ever was
and sing it to you until the sky turned dark
and the moon shone bright.
I'm lost inside my head again
and you're the only one who can even see where I've gone.
Will you fight for me through the end?
Will you tell me that I'm beautiful as I keep tearing myself to shreds?
If my world was perfect
I'd be beautiful and soft every hour of every day
and I'd make you feel like the man you are.
Can you take this instead?
Can you read this when I pierce your heart
and realize that I'm a mess that's clinging to the only thing that makes sense?
Necessity is an evil thing in our life
and it dictates who we are and what we become.
Come on baby, let's run
and get away from the problems we've started.
Come on baby, let's dance
and let the moonlight swallow us whole.
Come on baby, let's live
and start over with every rising sun.

numbly rusting

Rust on my hands...
Can I even do this anymore?
I'm afraid there's disconnect in my brain
and the affecting factor has taken over
and is affecting everything I ever cared about
will care about
will ever want to care about.
Sometimes I miss things so much
it hurts.
Other times
I hate the things I miss so much
that it is repulsive.
I wonder if I will ever read the plotline of my life
without wanting to make it more user-friendly.
Will I ever suck it up and take it like the woman I should be?
Will I ever be the woman I should be?
The other day
I figured out that I was only here because
I have nowhere else to go.
I wish that one day I would be brave enough
to kiss the man outside the window
jump on the bus and ride until I get somewhere
write until my fingers are numb
cry until my tears are gone
laugh until my stomach aches
feel until I am going to explode.
Sometimes I wonder
why I ever wanted to be numb.