She Tried To Hide What She Kept Inside

The invisible tears,
The silent fears,
Light never nears,
Like this for years.

Left all alone,
With no one to phone,
No love shown,
Struggles unknown.

Keeps it inside,
Wanting to hide,
Although she tried,
Always denied.

It always hurt,
When he was kicked to the dirt,
In a tear-stained shirt,
And nothing overt.

someday we'll live...

someday we’ll live in a house by the sea.

we’ll sit outside and drink lots of tea.

I’ll love you and you’ll love me.

in our little cozy house by the sea.

someday we’ll live in a house in the city.

we’ll cuddle and daily you’ll tell me I’m pretty.

we’ll love it even though its gritty.

it’s our busy little house in the city.

someday we’ll live in a house somewhere far.

we’ll get there by plane, and never by car.

you’ll take me on dates and we’ll look at the stars.

one day in our fairy tale house somewhere far.

Reality Sets In

I lied awake, yet still I dreamed.

Lying beside me, his face beamed.

Nothing was anything like it seemed.

Maybe I had never dreamed.

Grounding Thoughts on a Bad Day

I look around my room and I see a roof. I can see solid walls. I see a bed and clothes and material things. I am blessed.
I look around the kitchen and I see a roof. I can see solid walls. I can see a full fridge. I can see a running tap. I can see wasted food. I see working appliances. I am blessed
I look around the bathroom and I can see a roof. I can see solid walls. Again, I see running water. I can see soap, a toothbrush, toothpaste, a working toilet. I am blessed.
I look around my foyer and I can see a roof. I can see solid walls. I see multiple pairs of shoes. I can count on more than two hand the number of coats in the closet. I see a working vehicle on my driveway. I am blessed.
I look around the city's streets and there is no roof. There are no standing walls. There are people without beds, without food, without water. They have no soap, no tooth brush. They are coat-less and have no means of personal transportation.
I am blessed.

Thoughts of a cloudy day's bus ride

Sitting on a bus, its easy to lose perspective.

You get on with a purpose. You have a destination, somewhere to go, or someone to see, something to do.

You sit down and for that short period of time, you're exposed to people you've never met, and may never see again. Some wear headphones, distract themselves, emerce themselves in a melody. Others sit, looking forward, waiting for their next stop.

I sit there and analyze people. Who are they? Who were they? Where are they going? Where were they before this? Sometimes people notice me looking at them, and I simply smile.

Why do some people smile back and others don't? Is it me? Has someone made them cold in their life time? Those who smile back, have they had great lives? Or do they understand what it is to struggle and are simply grateful for a little act of kindness?

Regardless of how they respond, are they analyzing me too? Am I just another person on a bus to them?

thoughts of a stressful day

imperfection is perfection.pain is true beauty.
struggles become strengths.
mountains are only molehills.
obstacles are paths we havent thought of yet.

Photograph.

A photograph. A moment frozen in time.
One single second, forever seized.
With the simple click of a button, a memory is captured.

Set aside for a later day, it sits there collecting dust.
It only takes a second to go right back to that place.
The weather, the sights, the people, the feeling.

Likewise, it only takes a second to miss it, to wish you could have it back.
But that's the beauty of photography.
It only illustrates the moment, not the fallouts or regrets.

That photograph, the still memory.
 A story behind the image.
Somehow it is both haunting and beautiful to summon it into mind.