When the shadows haunt us It is the shadows that seek love
It is waiting in the shadows. In my mind. In dreaming, I am awake.
A gust of wind and a painting of a cage. This long, long path to there.
From the lace of my fingertips, I will become my love.
My eye is your eye. I am more than skin. I am more than bone. I fought it, but It is my body and to be wealthy is to own oneself.
If reaching out, one hand could touch my family and the other the Kotel I would be a bridge
Willows drunk on hunger they reach and reach and reach All the eyes on a piece of love like want Only branches want
Let it be Let all things flow It will fade and I will be
If I reach for the night will I find you under its covers?
They walk quiet nights from Jerusalem to the sea or to a faceless border named by beautiful, dusty hands pointing to their land pushing outor keeping in
Thirty angels in black grasping for the nakedness of being seen For the angels dressed in black I pray They find their souls beneath it
I stretched my skin I folded myself up and the heart, it always fit
When I asked for my mother they brought me a heart
The first hit of lightning reminds me of the grace that is needed to swallow a lie
I will search for you in mirrors and I will press the pain away I will whisper I love you (I love you) I will become my painting until love seeps from your walls I will write different endings for myself then watch the ink dry I will I will I will
From a well the drought drains itself of its ashes
Under the door to our home lay our memories She runs through it all pink, sparkles and PTSD And apparently she cannot just be because that is too dangerous
A flower hides in its petals. Plucked or not, whispers the moon “I am the flower.”
Spy the edge. Watch the skeletons fall. When did they begin forgetting themselves? When did they become shadows?
And night tastes like silence when I close its door.