There’s a balance,
a golden mean for all virtues and vices.
There’s a balance
between having developed opinions
and knowing when “opinion” is not synonymous with “truth”.
There’s a balance
between recognizing bullshit
and knowing when to call bullshit.
There’s a balance
between being able to tell right from wrong
and knowing when the distinction is important.
There’s a balance;
one day I’ll find it.
Just two kids who,
in love with the idea
of being in love,
agreed to be
in love together.
He says I’m beautiful, and
maybe I believe him,
maybe I don’t.
Either way,
it makes me feel like
the luckiest girl in the world.
You truly know another language
when you stop translating it in your head
to your native tongue.
I had turned the concept of love over and over
in my head, trying to put the emotion in terms I could understand,
trying to translate feelings into the cause-and-effect of action.
There is no interpretation of words and phrases;
there is simply a certainty in the meaning
that cannot be learned or truly explained.
It wasn’t until I met you that I stopped questioning
the nature of love; I accepted it as a fact, an experience I lived,
living day-to-day with you.
The best thing about summer storms
is that the rain itself isn’t cold;
it’s a warm blanket falling down
in a continuous sheet that engulfs you,
holding you in its safe warmth.
The worst thing about summer storms
is the draft that always follows;
alone, it’s not quite cold, but, when it dances
across your wet skin, it wraps you
in a coldness that sinks to the bone.
Maybe that’s why I go
straight from one storm to the next,
chasing an ephemeral warmth
and avoiding the drafts that overtake me
and freeze my heart.
My mind d r i f t s ,
tethered to reality
only by the thought of
you, the bridge between
my dreams and all the truths
that are too good to be true.
I found that, once those three words
had been sent into the abyss
with the hope that you sat listening
on the other side of a small universe,
I sat trembling for a small eternity until
a small whisper came back,
almost an echo but not quite:
“I love you too.”
In my trembling hands
I hold a treasure you have
given me, your heart.
That one great purpose,
The driving desire, the need.
That is what I seek.
For once, stand still with hands by your side
and feel with only your feelings.
Go with the flow, be there for the ride,
knowing that you’ll be left reeling.
After all, what’s the use of stable ground
if it lies at the bottom of the ocean?
What’s the point in being mentally sound
if it’s only because you’ve ignored all emotion?
