i have a hard time

wrap around

the pain

warm skin

i will let you in

to my thoughts

and hang them out to dry

dirty laundry never seen

words never said 

do you know 

how much i hate them 

do you know 

i have a hard time 

speaking my mind

heartbreak isn’t bad

our lives intertwine

like wisteria vine

growing together

growing apart

is it suffocating

is it softly killing

or is it stretch

& discomfort

& new growth

maybe it’s both 

cause my list is getting longer

of everything that breaks my heart

not because they’re new

but because i finally feel it

everything weighs more

hurts more 

costs more

i feel heavy, and low 

overdrafted and slow

im hurting more than ever

but surrounded and safe

you give and you take

i shiver and shake

life is worth living

love is worth giving

i give it away

because it’s too much to hold

so heartbreak isn’t bad 

breakdown isn’t failure

im okay with the feeling 

i know it starts the healing

i won’t die that way

i won’t die like that

drama and disaster

my ugly wounds 

cutting through my skin 

disgrace on my face

for all the world to see

i want to begin

i don’t want to end

you will die this way

bleeding out the poison

breaking the bones 

til they’re better

see, you’re no fighter

you’re not strong, 

you’re small

falling to your knees 

for all the world to see

your shame

no i won’t 

i won’t die that way

i’ll stay with you

i’ll take care of me, 

take care of you

i’ll wrap my arms

around the pain 

and kiss your tears

i’ll grow strong 

like the spring time

i can take the pain

i can lose and keep living

i can say goodbye

because it’s worth

all that ive been given

all of the joy that,

has splashed my face

and left me weak

& soaking wet

and made me stronger

all the time we’ve had together

it’s all that matters to me

it’s a blur, it’s a book

life is a movie

so we keep moving

we keep living

maybe i’ll live 

to see sixty more summers

ill fade like a flower

or vanish like a burnt out star

ill take a bullet for you

or fall asleep 

in the arms of cancer

or in the arms of a lover

in a swing at sunset

but i won’t die that way,

i won’t die that way

two hands

hands that heal

and hit hard

sweat with work

and smooth the oil

hands that dig deeper 

dirt under your fingernails 

planting seeds 

burying old things

letting go and hanging on

sorting through new mail 

and old drawings

filtering the ripe and rotten

treasuring the good

burning what’s no longer needed

drawing faces and figures

pushing back and

pulling the laces

pressing buttons

poking holes in arguments

picking flowers

and pointing out 

the unnoticed beauty

the unseen people

provoking laughter

and wiping tears

the tightest fist 

and the softest, open palm

you add ink to the dull

sharpen the lines 

and soften the edges.

hands that shape and 

find form in clay

putting color in the crevices

primary colors,

brightened by glaze

hands that are

leathered & weathered

broken in, but not broken

strengthened and stretched

scratched by the cat

hands that hold

both peace and rebellion

rest and energy

a box cutter for breaking down

and a hammer for building.

balance is the idea 

equilibrium is the goal 

but you know that, 

balance is not one thing

it is holding both truth and possibility

both fact and fantasy

knowing the steps and science

the ingredients needed

but also the gamble of the kiln 

the factors of firing

the unknown and unplanned

you break your pots and 

scrap the ideas

recycle the clay 

return to the drawing board

your hands hold 

money in one hand,

food in the other

rest in tranquility and 

hold tightly to a sword

ready to throw 

a wrench in the plan 

throw caution to the wind 

fling off the blankets 

and face the day 

the high expectation and hope

knowing the crush of failure

and the buzz of success

knowing that joy beats the odds 

& cushions the landing

knowing that night means sleep 

and morning means a new day

hands cold from snow

and warmed by the cat

pale in winter 

& tanned by the sun

open hands

ready to give and take

never throwing in the towel

never throwing out a dream

without atleast trying 

knowing that cooking,

means getting burnt

healing means limping first

& loving means being heard 

& also getting hurt, 

and the most beautiful thing 

and still your hands reach 

open and empty

ready to take 

all that life has for you.