Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Edit Me - Week 16

My Reflection of Something

I haven't done many Edit Me's in awhile, but I really liked the picture this week so I thought I'd give it a go! I did a quick edit, nothing too fancy. It probably took me 15 minutes tops. I used Picasa and Picnik, as usual. 

Here's the original:

a lovely picture without editing, of course.
I messed with the shadows first and made it a bit darker, then took it to Picnik, where I added a sepia tone, adjusted the exposure and contrast after that, add the Orton-ish (or whatever it's called) effect, then added a soft vignette.

The final product:

my biggest concern was not allowing the dress to blur in with the background.
Happy editing!


Oh, and a little Death Cab for Cutie, because this song has been stuck in my head for the past 48 hours.

And I think this video is pretty cool.

She Would Change Anything

We painted away--we painted to stay.
We captured colors on the floor.
Words weren't enough anymore.

I have an "a"--two, in fact.
You have two "o's," to be exact.
Who knew we were so different?

We were identical in our first names.
We were alike--almost the same.
And tell me, would you change anything?

If she could, she would change anything.
In her free will, she would change anything.
I'm sorry, my Father--I couldn't sing.

We loved each other--we didn't know how.
You weren't my brother, though I could tell
that your soul and mine knew the other.

I should have fought for you instead
of getting caught in a thought left unsaid.
Are we the right form?--we've been misled.

Of these, I was afraid.

Monday, August 29, 2011

Apes Will Rise

The day me, Deacon, and his parents went to the zoo, the chimpanzees were being really open and active, and so I was really satisfied with the pictures. Even better, afterwards we went to see The Rise of the Planet of the Apes, which was a really good movie. I'd recommend it.

These pictures make me want to take wildlife pictures as a career.


Apes Will Rise 2


Sunday, August 28, 2011

Driving Them There

She can't be right for you--never was,
and though you can't believe this
as a fact, perhaps it is. Perhaps
in a greater sense, there is much more
going on than first realized.
Every person, going to and fro,
has a story to them.
Every one is going somewhere,
and are experiencing something to
drive them there. Though they
are all at different points in their life.
The only thing you may have in common
is that in that particular moment of time,
you are on the same road as them,
headed the same direction.
Not close--not familiar--not
anything you think of regularly,
but the truth is they are not cars.
They are people. They are lives.
And you are to them as they are to you.

There is someone out there for you.

Friday, August 26, 2011

"Clocks Like Hearts"

My uncle died in a motorcycle accident a year ago today. I went back through my notes and things to see if I had written anything that day, and it was that day that I wrote this, which I entitled "Clocks Like Hearts" on Facebook. (This was before I had a blog, remember.) I thought I'd share it.


There isn't anyone who could guess at this tonight. It's always that - tonight, today, tomorrow. We count the seconds, we hold our clocks like hearts. A moment here and a moment gone. Days broken down into exact measurements of hours, of seconds. Of moments.

That's the kind of life that we have.

There isn't time for guessing, there is no room for mistakes. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Let's not be stupid.

Routine can sometimes be a blessing, if you're asking for a little bit of sequence in a drowning moment.

I'm buried. I'm done.

I want to know you. I want to have forever to know you.
But all I have is a moment.
I am here; I'll always be here. No. I'm here now, and hopefully whenever you need me. But I make no promises. I never make promises anymore.

Today was beautiful, but my soul still clung to my wristwatch.



Sticky Situations. And Hippos.

I really, really want a sip of my tea which is on the table in front of me, but I can't reach it, and if I move then the computer cord will shift and stop charging the computer, and all hope will be lost for the evening.

These are the types of situations I always seem to find myself in.

Instead, I might edit some pictures. Or attempt to read more of Othello for my Intro to Lit class tomorrow. Yay Shakespeare.

Alright, pictures win. I'm trying to edit through all these pictures at the zoo I took a few weeks ago. The hippos were really friendly that day. =)

Hippo Connection

Puts a smile on my face.


Wednesday, August 24, 2011

For Only You

I believe the things you say
and you say them well--you portray
a vast amount. And tenderness
dwells within you, dwells with this
desperation for overcoming me
and you--you--the assembly--
with proof and utter confidence
that rides along with deep defense
against suggestion of otherwise
but I--I believed those dying eyes.
Every moment, though unfair,
I believed the words because I care.
And greatness proved not merely great,
but overwhelming, if not fate.
Was it fate? that you and I
could stand there watching all pass by
and dear, feel doubt--the dreadful day
did we happen to throw it all away
based on a thought--an uncivil note
of love to you--that you may devote
less than forethought previously?
Now you--you hold the skeleton key
and by such, choice. Are you just
fed by fear, or love, or lust?
Are we friends--yes, by Love;
this I shall always be certain of.
That is enough, for you, for me,
and from now on, we both will see
with our eyes forward, hand in hand,
and with each other, we rise, we stand
upon truth and trust and Love and we
will live just how we knew we'd be.


A side note: 

In the awesome and extraordinary event that anyone reading this is a die-hard Harry Potter fan like I am, I strongly urge you to watch this video:

It literally brought me to tears.

Much love,

PS. It should also be noted that the song in the video reminded me of the song "Okay I Believe You, But My Tommy Gun Don't" by Brand New, which sort of led to the poem.

I need to go to bed now.

Monday, August 22, 2011

To Tyler.

This not-so-great poem is dedicated to my friend Tyler, who lives in Indiana. While reading his blog, I stumbled across this poem which was to me, so I decided that he deserved a reply. However, I've been experiencing just a slight case of writer's block with poetry for the past couple weeks, so it's not as awesome as he deserves, but it was the best I could manage. For now, anyway.

Memorize my face--my name--
these, you know. These, you claim.
My voice, my eyes--you have those, too?
Or do they exist inside a frame?

A friend, you say--and this is true,
even though I've not seen you.
But never have you let me down,
which puts you in with very few.

Surely you should wear a crown,
for proving yourself from all around
with such few words and little time
that reach from there to this small town.

And I know that you can spin a rhyme
that compared to this one, is the prime
and humorous result of a smiling heart
and friend I've found. And me--I'm

glad you came to me--from the start--
your letter to June--a work of art--
and to be your friend, what a joy,
though we live so far apart.

College and Stuff

First day of the school year: done.
Homework: not done. Eh.

Also, I don't like macaroni & cheese.
Or cheese in general.

ANNNND I just got an email saying that my first class is cancelled for tomorrow. Yeah!

This has been a pretty pointless blog entry,

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Oh, Maturity

It's 2:34. (AM.) I have to get up early for church. I should be asleep.
I blog too much.

I'm starting to realize that I'm eighteen years old, and I act nothing like it. I still pretty much act and live like a fourteen-year-old.

This is a sadness. I shall ponder it for awhile, I think.

I mean, where does maturity even come from? Is it something I can buy?
What about talent--can I have some of that, too?


Alright, alright. I know I'm special and perfect just the way I am, blah blah blah, but seriously. I'm getting up there, you know. Time is short. I need to make more lists and see more things.

Have goals. Accomplish them.

Well, we'll work on that.
For now, I'll pray.


P.S. My Flickr page is coming together nicely.


Jenna 15

Jenna 18

I miss Jenna. I want her back.
I hate college.


Saturday, August 20, 2011

One Thing More

I'm surprised at this--though I know
that one disguised as fear can be a foe,
but a friend may emerge just by chance
and cause you to take a second glance.

Friends--they're fair, though they leave
and family--they're there, though I believe
that neither remain for an extended time--
indeed, some will fall on this mountain climb.

And enemies--remain a sort of make-believe
and to you, ride your tail--sit on your sleeve--
and they linger longer--a shadow, behind,
though your experiences with them are undefined.

It remained in my head. Nobody knew
that I thought all was lost--I thought only few
were left to care. No, that's not true.

And here, I thought the worst of you.


I just got my hair done, and I feel SO much better. Something about the freshness of it puts me in a great mood. I even felt good enough to clean out my car when I got home, which I have been putting off for weeks. Now I have two hours before work...which is less exciting...but you know, work isn't as bad as I make it sound. I just complain a lot. I actually like it there quite a bit. It's stressful, sure, but it's nice to get away from everything else for awhile--6 straight hours without any electronics--and feel useful. Feel like I can do something and be good at it.

I'm rambling now, excuse me.

By the way, I'm a finalist in that photo contest I entered a few days ago at Little Somethings. You can go and vote for me on the poll on the right.

Or vote for miss Katy from Sanguine Eyes. She is how I found the contest in the first place. =)

Friday, August 19, 2011

A Not-So-Important List

Things running through my brain right now:
  • I don't want to go to work today, or tomorrow, or ever.
  • I'm getting sick of pizza.
  • I like hot dogs. I wish I worked at a hot dog place instead.
  • I have an obsession with burning candles.
  • Vanilla, in particular. I love the smell of vanilla.
  • I'm working on a Flickr page for my photography. 
  • I shouldn't be nervous about starting MAC, but I kind of am.
  • Even though I've already successfully taken two semesters there.
  • I hate being in the transition between high school and real college.
  • I kind of want to be out living in a dorm, meeting new people already.
  • I can't stay here forever.
  • Also, I need new music. And more space on my iPod.
  • And I hate my jealousy problem.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

The Farewell Face

Beside me rests a naked hand
connected to a farewell face.
A face not worn--but young, and he
can capture souls without a word.
A farewell face--though he stays.
He stays, though longs to leave
like all the rest. Like the trend.
Like someone not willing to express
with words that with me, it is not...
it is just not enough to be by me.
My apologies--I guess I was born
this way. Inadequate. Mediocre.
I'm sorry for my mortality and
my lack of overcoming natural selection.
But, alas, my shoulders are under pressure
again. Glorious tons of weight, as always.
So that in my decision, or lack thereof,
it will be inevitably a fault of mine.
Like, perhaps, if this farewell face
is walking away from me in the night
and I'm left at the light-switch.
Though he walks, darkness and light
remain resting in the palm of my hand.
And my decision of when to leave him
in darkness rests on me, not him who
journeys away, face forward.
How dare you put this weight on me,
for the farewell face--he plays well,
he knows exactly what he is doing
and he passes the decision to me--
the darling--in a disguise so it looks proper.
All the while, he joins the rest;
all the while, he leaves me behind
without a farewell glance.

I Haven't Figured Out

Now I've gone for too long
living like I'm not alive,
so I'm gonna start over tonight.
I'm not going,
because I've been waiting for a miracle.
And I'm not leaving.
- Paramore

While browsing blogs, my dog Romeo fell asleep on me. It's the cutest thing, and I wish I could take a picture but moving means disturbing him.

Dogs truly are man's best friend.

Also, today is Jon Schneck's birthday, so I'm listening to Relient K to celebrate.
(okay, okay...I was listening to RK before I realized it was his birthday. You caught me.)

Today has been good thus far, and I hope it continues.


It is hot, and it is not,
I repeat, it is not
just one spot.

But in smiles, say "hello,"
and up above, far below,
all is well, although

we had a bad yesterday.
that we cannot take away,
but look among them--they

who twirl and dance and laugh and shout
of life they have and about
all the things they haven't figured out.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Photo Challenge: Vacation

I've posted this picture before, but just in case you missed it, here you go. I took it this summer during my 10-day trip to Europe. =)

This is my first time entering a photo challenge on Little Somethings, so I hope all goes well.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Perspective of Pain

It's hard to see someone you love move on to someone else.
It's difficult--even as a young adult.
As a child, for that matter.

What people might not realize is that though from an adult's perspective, a child might get upset over something that seems silly, unimportant, or immature, it is not that way in the child's perspective. They can get devastated over something that will never trouble an adult. And while what causes stress or desperation to a child might be frivolous to an adult, one must never degrade the child's feelings towards that matter, because the pain and anxiety felt by the child is very real. This is why children in elementary school might kill themselves over a failing test score, or a teenager because of constant bullying.

Pain--though seen through different times and ways--is experienced by everyone.

Pain is very real.


It's hard to be young and limited.
It's hard to be confined by your dreams,
though they are supposed to free you.
It's hard to love and be loved,
and want to love, though faced with incapability.
It's hard for things to end so quickly--
before they had a chance to really begin.
It's hard to think of one moving on,
and to know it is inevitable.

It's hard to still be here, honestly.

Monday, August 15, 2011

Left Alone; Left Behind

Say goodbye--sure. Stop and say,
"You were worth my time of day,"
and carry on--fine. Far away.

You couldn't keep me; you couldn't stay.

At least say something, before I say
that I was nothing; I paved the way
to better your leaving by my dismay.

Go on without me--you'll be okay.

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Things I Know

I know that I will always be a little kid at heart.
I know that I will always, always love Disney Pixar movies.
(Especially Wall-E and The Incredibles.)
I know that I hate it when people leave without goodbyes,
but I know sometimes that's just how life works.
I know I like the idea of "carrying corners,"
and that my church family is a blessing to me.
I know that I'm thankful for all I've been given,
including my life, health, family, and talents,
even when I don't quite act like it.
I know I should be bulleting this list, though I'm not.
I know I love Deacon Seals, and I don't care who knows it.
I know that if my focus remains on my Lord,
then he will straighten my path.

I know that I love writing in verse and lists,
and that even if I try to write in paragraph form,
it just naturally comes out this way.

I know that I am truly blessed.

Saturday, August 13, 2011

Drops of Rain

It starts off slow, then it grows...and grows,
and soon it engulfs everything.
That's not bad--that's very good.
And I can't wait for the ripples
to continue on, and on
and on.

You make me so incredibly happy,
and I'm here to stay.

Thursday, August 11, 2011


There's not much left to say, except
that one could be wounded and recollect
the days that once filled us; upon
moments we both once smiled on.

I hope you never fade from my memory,
even though I know deep inside 
that it has already begun happening.
I cannot remember the length of your hair.
In my mind, it's long--shaggy. Greasy.
But in actuality, I have a feeling it was
a bit shorter. Trimmed. But it reality,
I haven't the faintest idea.
I don't even remember what you were wearing.
I cling to that which I have kept fresh
through repeated recollections over the past
year--and yes, it has been that long.

Oh, how dreadful it is to feel
like I have every option and reason to be able
to remember something--something important--
but not be able to.

Don't let me sleep past noon, I said,
and don't let me fall asleep. Instead,
wake me gently--as soon as the sun,
and spend the minutes well--every last one.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Weeping for Innocence

I was crying partly because I felt that this was expected of me, partly from genuine repentance, but partly also because of a deeper grief which is peculiar to childhood and not easy to convey: a sense of desolate loneliness and helplessness, of being locked up not only in a hostile world but in a world of good and evil where the rules were such that it was actually not possible for me to keep them. 
-- "Such, Such Were the Joys..." by George Orwell
Oh, if this were how it is to be,
then I'm not sure where I stand.
Apparently, I'm on the edge--the very point
of a one-way mountaintop. All alone,
but so heavily looked upon by those
examining and analyzing my every move;
every inch and sway remains in their sight.
But I do not like the breeze up here.
It's cold, and I have not a hand to warm me.

I loved him--that much was always a fact,
and nothing about that changed.
It's not like I want to be anywhere near here,
but I know and feel that this is right;
this is how it should be. And I struggle
to come up with adequate conclusions
as to why my desires don't match up with
what plays out in reality. Oh, if I only knew.

I've only seen a little bit of life so far,
and I say, I must constantly cover my eyes.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011


--This is just some writing I've done recently. It's not perfect, and it's not edited or proofread. But that's okay. It will be better developed and such over time. For now, please enjoy. And please note that there is a bit of language in it. I promise it's all for a good cause. A good moral of the story that isn't seen yet in this portion. Regardless, here you go.
Oh, and also, there were some italics in here for emphasis that were taken out whenever I copied it over, and I'm too lazy to go back through it all and fix it. So just use your imagination.

The rain had slowly subsided, so I figured it was in my best interest to get the heck outta my house. I swear, that place makes me suffocate if I’m within the walls more than twelve continuous hours.

Of course, there weren’t a whole lot of options to choose from in the glorious fortress of Chester Hills, so I headed towards the city park for a good run. It’s actually not that bad of a park for being in the middle of a town full of screw-ups and drug addicts. If you can get past thinking about all the crap that most likely goes down there, it’s almost enjoyable.

Plus, there are squirrels freaking everywhere, and who doesn’t love a good squirrel encounter?

Last time I was there, one had somehow ended up inside one of the trashcans. You know, the round metal ones with the flap at the top? Yeah. He was making all kinds of noise at the bottom. But you know, as a squirrel, it was probably a rush. I have no idea how he could have gotten back out of the trashcan, but I figured it was pretty irrelevant. As a squirrel, he probably found a load of food and crap down there to keep himself satisfied for a good portion of the day, and if he died in there, I bet he was pretty effing happy.

Besides, seeing the trashcan shake and quake as I ran by was just priceless.

The park was pretty golden that morning, actually. There was a slight haze hanging in the air—not enough to cause frizzy hair or whatever it is girls typically complain about—and it made the sunlight look pretty similar to how it’s depicted on the front of a Sunny D label. You know, orange, sunny, and delicious. Or something.

The park was also pretty vacant, which was surprising because I figured everyone would want to stretch their legs after that horrendous monsoon that attacked us mildly innocent figures of Chester Hills. Apparently not. I guess there are more lazy people in this town than I gave it credit for.

I really have no room to talk on that front, though. It’s not like I do some major power walking while I’m here. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not in terrible shape. Could be worse, you know. Could be better. I do enjoy a good run from time to time, though. Especially if it means getting out of the house for awhile.

And squirrels in trashcans, of course.

Alright, so, I was running through this golden, damp haze of a morning when I suddenly saw this chariot in the distance. It wasn’t quite like the kind you see on in remakes of battles of Gladiators in the Colosseum, but same basic concept. This thing, though—it had four wheels and was carried by three black horses. That’s how massive it was. Now, chariots in and of themselves are pretty spectacular to come by in this day and age, but this was different. Someone had caught this huge chariot on fire, horses and all. They were running as fast as they could manage—I mean, this think was booking it—but those flames weren’t going anywhere. It was just on fire.

It was all kind of amusing, if I’m being completely honest.

I stopped for a moment and stared at it in bewilderment, then got over myself and continued running.

I ran a good two minutes more, rounded the slow curve towards the other direction, facing the bridge in the distance. There’s this bridge in the middle of the park that is pretty phenomenal. It’s really wide and elegant-looking and goes up over the creek, which is also pretty heavy-duty, especially on days recovering from a miniature monsoon. I mean, it could be considered a river if we’re really being technical. People come from all over the area to get pictures done here—weddings, Seniors, family photos, you name it. It’s a pretty big deal.

I finally saw someone once I was able to see the bridge. He was riding a bicycle in the inner path of the park, the one that led over the bridge and around again. He had shaggy hair. I could tell because he wasn’t wearing a helmet. I guess people just don’t wear helmets after a certain point. I don’t know. But he had this brown, unkempt hair that I recognized immediately as someone I faintly knew. I tried to formulate a name. It was something like Jackson or Justin.

My memory sucks, I swear.

I kept running, looking at the path in front of me as I tried to remember his stupid name, and a moment later I saw a flash in my peripheral vision. I looked up again. It was that damn flaming chariot.

It was headed towards the bridge, in the opposite direction of the kid with the bike.

It wasn’t a big deal—you know, because it’s a huge bridge. But as I watched him, he didn’t even seem to notice this flaming chariot headed towards him. And I thought, you know, maybe this happens to him a lot. Maybe I just don’t get out as often as I should. So I slowed my running to a walk and watched how completely nonchalant he would be about passing this thing on the bridge. I kinda envied that kind of chillness, to be honest.

But as they got closer together and both crept closer to the bridge, I gotta say, I got pretty effing nervous. I got to wondering whether he had forgotten to wear his contacts. I had reached a diagonal view from the bridge at that point, about at the guy’s 5 o’clock. And what I saw was nothing short of that chariot headed straight for him.

I swear, time nearly stopped. It’s not like everything went in slow motion. It didn’t. People who say that are full of crap. It’s like…the silence of the park became clearer, more dominant, and I could feel every nerve and jolt and vein in my body pulsing. My lungs had stopped temporarily on a breath.

They were no more than a foot from colliding when my body heaved forward and my lungs let out an echoing yell. It was something like, “STOP!” with the force of 50 men behind it. Possibly impressive, except it was completely unintentional. Because the second or two it took him to look up and see the flaming chariot and continue his gaze to see where that blood-curdling scream had originated was last conscious second that he ever had in his life.

Because in the next moment, the horses had collided with his bicycle, driving him into the side of the bridge. The bike took the impact of the chariot and the side of the bridge, but the inertia sent the boy over the edge and into the creek, which had risen and flowing quite rapidly due to the recent days of rain.

He hit the water hard on the left side of his skull, and I didn’t wait to see him resurface. I knew the water would instantly wash him away, so I bolted to the creek as fast as I could.

I left the path behind me and ran downhill through all of these old trees that I had never seemed to notice before. My feet were moving fast underneath me, almost like it was natural. God, I thought, I hope he’s still alive.

The trees were getting thicker and I couldn’t understand it. Why were there such old trees right in the middle of nowhere, next to a creek? I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand why my feet were moving without me having to think, I didn’t understand why the sky had gotten cloudy and grey all of a sudden, and I sure as hell did not understand what kind of person would set a damn chariot on fire in the middle of a city park.

There were vines now and I had to stretch my hands out in front of me to fight my way through everything. I felt like they were alive—the trees, I mean. These vines were coming from every direction and I couldn’t get there fast enough and I couldn’t see what was going on and I just couldn’t breathe anymore.

I panicked.

I finally stumbled through the trees and vines and came face-to-face with the creek up ahead of me. It was flowing towards the direction I was in, and I looked all along it for traces of the kid on the bike. And then I saw him. His faded green jacket gave him away. There he was, being pounded by the water into this little…nest of rocks. He was struggling against it, but he was stuck. He kept getting pushed under and pelted into the hard surface of the stone next to him.

I ran; I tried. I went for him…to help him, to pull him out…and I almost got there. I almost got there.

Fifty feet away, it had to be. I was right there.

But these vines, they came out of nowhere, I swear they did. They caught my foot and I tripped. I fell to the ground hard, though I didn’t notice that much until I saw the bruises the next morning. My eyes were fixed on him, whom I knew but did not really know at all. The boy that I had every right and power within me to save, but was failing to do so.

I dug my fingers into the ground in front of me and tried to pull myself forward towards him. God, I can still hear him gasping and yelling out for help. I can still hear the splashing of water and see the desperation in his face as he struggled to fight for the surface. I tried to pull myself forward, by inches, but these vines came up from nowhere and tied me down to the ground. They wrapped themselves around every limb so I could barely move at all.

And they held me there; I watched him drown there.

I watched his hands grow still and silent against that cold, wet rock.

And even then, I still could not remember his name.

Monday, August 8, 2011

Before You Pass Judgement

Please note, I did not do this without
great hesitance, but with intention.
And thought. A great amount of it.
It was not easy--but it was right,
and I knew from the start that something
was wrong. I knew.
It is the result from thinking with my heart,
and seeking advice through prayer and God.
It came from trust and faith that
there is someone out there that He has planned for me,
but it's not you. Oh, it's not you.
At least not here and now. That's clear.
Though I love you dearly, and always will,
I love my God more. That's just a fact
that I cannot change, nor want to change,
because that's how it should be. And the one
that I shall spend my remaining days with
will have been built with me in mind. I have faith.
You have been, are, and remain my best friend,
and I don't regret a single day of that.

It didn't work out. It's nobody's fault;
it's just the way things are.

Friday, August 5, 2011

A "To Not Do" List.

I need to stop
  • being unsatisfied
  • yelling
  • putting too much hope in the future
  • going against my heart
  • working so much
  • complaining
  • spending my time doing frivolous things
  • trying to be someone else

I need to get my life and self in proper order.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

In Constant Motion

I never thought I would be here--
vague and fortuned, yet a dear
and beloved companion to a lost heart
that longs for mine with each second apart.

I never thought the world could make
sense after all of life--I thank
my Lord and Savior, my dog, my friend,
and all of that which we did not intend.

I saw you once--and now, again--
I see you closer, since we have been
a turning table and butterfly
in constant motion, which may imply

that we would fail, Oh, we might think
that we could walk and talk in sync,
and while in the eye of how things seem,
we deny each other and devise a scheme

that would forfeit the rights of a friendship, indeed,
yet hope for nothing but to succeed
in a selfish -ship and a daring disgrace.
My dear, my darling--this is not the case.

We might grow--yes, we shall move--
and our peers and friends may disapprove,
but this is right for you; for me;
and for our God, whom I believe

put you in place for me to find,
and put me wandering with you on my mind.
Thank you, my Lord, and let it be so
that we honor You always as we both grow.

And as for my other half, I knew
that our time together was long overdue,
but now I know it was worth the wait
as I live in love with my dear soul mate.

Monday, August 1, 2011

A False Friend

I'll heal; I've healed; and I shall heal
without permission or consent from you.

I will prevail--I'll be first;
and I'll be last in line, as well.

Love has never meant so much
in such a little amount of time,

and it has never been as false
as the mockery that escapes your lips.

But I do not blame the word for that,
nor do I blame myself. I blame

the miserable longing of a false friend;
I blame the morning of a dying day.

I had hoped with memories put to rest.
That was my first mistake.

The second was pretending
when everyone knows I'm supposed to be a grownup.

The third was accepting
you in all of your entirety. Oh, it was you.

My mistake, as I've said before.
Oh, the flaws of an unintended heart.

While we're on the subject, I've decided
that you can't expect something worthwhile

to be an instant hit.