Hi,
You should know that I'm listening with both ears
And you're really special to my heart.

A.

You teach me through grilled cheese

Hey old friend,
Nice to see you. Blank and patiently waiting. Nonjudgmental, wordless, and understanding.
Black ink brings clarity to white pages of being lost. Sometimes, at least.

I think truth is my absolute favourite thing. Certainty - the moments that I'm sure are rare and precious. When truth passes someone's lips, my skin responds; chilled to the bone. I don't like this relying on feelings thing. It's so flippant, so fleshly. My heart breathes lies and theories: birds with no wings, which are weak stumps of creatures.
So then tell me, Truth. Fill me in, help me out. If only Your voice was as distinct as my grandma's, her groggy whisper of "helloo," on the phone is enough I know it's her. I'm not really enjoying this whole, give up everything deal. I wish I could say I was. This is not fun.
My dreams.
My heart.
My time.
My hopes.
My needs. 
I hear the selfishness and the bitterness in my heart. I watched it reign in me all day. I know.

You teach me through grilled cheese.
My best friend, who I love the most, was sick in bed and didn't go to lunch yesterday. I was late for lunch with my parents and had things to do later that day, but I wanted her to eat. So I grabbed a grilled cheese sandwich for her, contained between two paper plates and walked it back to her room. On the way, my heart said, "God, please reward me for this good work I'm doing, trying to love people." As soon as that thought passed through my mind, I reeled it back in realizing it was not my thought at all. I needed no reward, today or in heaven for bringing her food. I love her and I wanted her to eat, and I was happy to bring her food even though I had to rearrange other things to do that.
I want the same to be with me and God. I so long to stop acting based on what I should do, and start serving because I love Him. Happy. Overflowing. Outpouring.
My deepest need is to be right with You. Being apart, I am restless, purposeless, and empty.
Please let me back in.

I just want to know you miss me.

Spiders and War

My hope is that, if I put it into words,
Tangible manifestations of the action that takes place
Behind opaque skin and an ironed exterior
That it will be brought to light.
What I'm ignoring in shadows of my soul,
Refusing to fortify myself against,
Will no longer be my secret
Contained within the walls of myself,
But rather displayed for what it is,
What I already know it is,
And what I cannot seem to deny.

You see, I am not prepared for battle.
When I see alcohol, I see weakness.
When I see drug use, I see weakness.
I see dependence, the desire to be something we're not.
Weak.
But who can condemn the weak?
The strong.
And I am not strong.
I want to be a fighter, put me on the frontlines!
Then I look back from the plough that drives on in front of me.
One foot in sea and one on shore,
One hand in a pot of gold, the other in Your side.
I cave, and I cry out to God to fight these battles for me
Because I want to bring Him victory,
But I don't want to fight.

I am not here to chase rushes!
Though I am not enslaved,
I am a spineless heap on the floor,
Crying for more.

It's the domino effect
Starting beneath the bones of my chest,
Electric, tingling, exhilarating.
It spiders down my arms to the tips of my fingers,
To my belly button,
The pit of my stomach,
Legs, feet, toes. Oh toes.

But I am not here to chase rushes.
Though I am not enslaved,
I am a spineless heap on the floor,
Crying for more.

I hear the warning bells,
A call to fight,
An invitation to war with the finest fighters of this field.
Winged, horned, armed, powerful.

To choose God over what we desire most,
That is the utmost calling.
Calling,
Calling,
Calling...

It's time.

Butterflies

And the butterflies turn into vultures
Caged within my ribcage
Clawing their way through layers of skin
Tangles of veins
To the light of day and the air of night
Their escape is the blush on my face
Eyelids close, stifle the rush
Exhale their efforts and calm their razor-blade wings

Fly away butterflies,
Do not die, but fly
To someone who finds you beautiful
And will feed you life
Because to me you are vultures
Tearing skin and feasting on rotten matter
Your thin wings are heavy stones in my stomach
Eliciting tears that I will no longer give
To futile butterflies

And yet you're still beautiful to me,
Butterflies

Tu me manques avec tous que je suis,
Mon amour, mon ami

10 Things I Hate About You

...

I don't know what it was about this moment,
But this moment,
You have my 100% yes.

I am never 100%. 

He bought me a glass bottle of strawberry lemonade.
I drank half and left the half empty bottle on the counter overnight.
I was doing the dishes today and saw the bottle;
Refrigerate the rest, or dump it?

I poured all that sweet lemonade down the drain,
Threw the bottle in the recycling.