#tinypoem

Some days are anchor, anvil, & ghost-- heavy & haunting, like a melody that lingers. Sometimes, we end up rooted in the ruin, unsure of the asking, the question in our hearts tumbling out. Each of us is longing for honey & wine, but this is the wrong spell-- careful the nails don't rust. #TinyPoem

What if I say the wrong thing & it is still okay? Nothing bad happens, & there’s no shattering of whatever spell has lit itself into being here— what if my old fears fall asleep in your arms, & we shed those deep aches like old skin— what if yes is the only word that matters here? #TinyPoem

Lately, the world is an in-drawn breath, all anticipation and softly folded hands, but I am a thunderstorm, a drawer full of knives, a heartbeat so loud it can be heard in the street— somewhere, I sing, somewhere, I breathe out, but here? Now? I am a warning shot, careful what you do next. #TinyPoem

Let it be honey and soft velvet, the shimmer of fog bracing its hands against the earth, serenity in the throes of passion, a longing so fierce that it is gravity and root— fill the cup, then drink from it, prayer and permission, this too is wild love, love wild as it should be. #TinyPoem

I want to tell you what it’s like when the ghost come out, how a haunting feel like a leveling, how the past walk with heavy feet, all rattle and no softness, how this song stretches from yesterday to you, and somehow back again, as if there is nothing but the ache, old and still new. #TinyPoem

When someone asks why you look sad, and you don’t know how to explain the weight of stars, how silence has hidden the sun, how old ghosts wear new faces, but are still hauntingly familiar— this is all truth, but the words falter into sand, wind-stolen, so all I do is smile, say nothing. #TinyPoem

There are more of us than there are monsters— they’re loud & all teeth,but their hearts are just toys,echos &emptiness, nothing more than shadows dancing in the dark of their own making— there are more of us than there are of them, do not doubt it, do not waiver, do not give ground at all #TinyPoem

What if the grief breaks into softness, the tide turning until it is gentle, until you remember what it’s like to breathe without the ache, and you coax beauty from this mess— what if love is like water, always changing, always itself? Drink the rain, darling, and see what happens next. #TinyPoem

I want to tell you about every ghost I once loved, but it’s not the time, or the place, and my heart already feels like it is full of lightning, like I *could* love you, the you underneath all that armor, the way you look at everything slant, but smile as if you’re all sun. #TinyPoem

Today, let yourself be rain, tomorrow, the whole storm, this is not the end, just a stopping place— plant hope, plant your heart, plant every fierce longing, remember how things grow: with care, with love, with two hands— one of mine and one of yours will do just fine. #TinyPoem

Some days feel thin as glass, delicate, transparent as a heartbreak, ache tripped over ribs, stumbling moment after moment, because the world is wild with howls, with madness, with sharp silence, and yet, we go to work, we make dinner, we say “this will get better”— but when? #TinyPoem

Sometimes, the Tower falls, and grief has too many hands, worry trails up your spine like fire, burning through bone without mercy, but the ache passes, the fire quiets, the nightmare folds in on itself-- remember that, remember the heart, remember every kind word, every soft hand. #TinyPoem