He’s allergic to tree nuts, but don’t worry, pizza’s safe. He carries around his inhaler, but you might want to invest in one too, on the off chance he forgets. Cause he’s forgetful, even when you need him to remember, but if you’re going to love him, that’s just how he is. He wants to … Continue reading to the girl who loves him next,
Tag: spokenword
stuck in the clouds
I think about death more often than sometimes and when I say death I don't mean dying but lying so still my whole body’s at ease; muscles relaxed I can't feel my knees — my knees don't exist anymore because I don't exist anymore. Like water, I’m floating. My heart is the sun on a cloudless … Continue reading stuck in the clouds
Before I go…
There’s only one requirement for death and that’s life. Old people are dying. Young people are dying. Sick people are dying. Well people are dying. We have a start date and an end date and the question is, what are you going to do with that dash in between?
2019.
To 2019, You were the sun and the storm combined Clouded by thoughts that don't stand a second chance You were beautiful all along You learned how to rockclimb because there was no other way around the boulders You lifted spirits heavier than the weights at the gym But that's okay, because you still went … Continue reading 2019.
Sobered thoughts.
It’s nights like these where I wonder most what alcohol tastes like. That if I ran now, could I make it? Nights where I don’t care to wonder if tomorrow will come. Only wonder if I’d be better off if it didn’t. And I think to myself, it’s not fair to him. After all he’s … Continue reading Sobered thoughts.
Conflicted, lost, but trying.
Sometimes I don't understand why I always try to do things the right way. Especially when they don't feel right to me. But I like to think it's because I want to make other people happy. To me, the right way is their way. Never my way. Because my right is wrong. And my wrong … Continue reading Conflicted, lost, but trying.
Dear Jehovah,
Guide me to him; pave me a route to follow where he ends up at the end of it.
A yellow brick road through the woods, a sleepy meadow, and a wicked castle where I'll fight for my life just to make it home.
Because there's no place like home.
There's no place like home.
There's no place like home.
Close my eyes and click my heels three times and when I open them, let him be there.
Jehovah, let him be my home.
a messy poem.
One day I want to drown in Pinterest recipes and YouTube tutorials. Read my kids the story of the little engine that could. Tell my husband I love him before bed and that I love him more the next morning. Visit my mother on Sunday’s but not without a trip to Baskin Robbins first. Chocolate … Continue reading a messy poem.
Seven-day recall.
Monday.I went to Disneyland with my family and you started school. I can only imagine what you must be feeling right now. Excitement, fear, anxiety, doubt. But I'll have you know there's not an ounce of doubt in my body. You are going to do great things and I support you. A thousand times over.Have … Continue reading Seven-day recall.
B.K Laurel 