And They Will Always Try And Make You Feel Inadequate


And they will always try and make you feel inadequate.

They will grab you by the hand and drag you down your alleyway of imperfections and show you the walls lined with your failures. They will claw their hands deep inside the pit of your stomach and search out your insecurities and place them behind your eyelids where even in sleep there will be no escape from your deepest fear of scarcity. They will barrage your mind with taunted whispers of all you should be; with ridicules of all you are not. They will wear down the resistance of your heart with arrows of rejection and dismissal and ostracism and abandonment for every moment you attempt to stand firm upon the truth of your own heart.

This is how they crush your bones so you fit inside their box where they will always be able to shape you into who they want you to be.

This is how they throw a blanket on your fire until your flames are no more and you become only the ashes and dust of who you were created to be.

This is how they wrap their cords around your throat until your skin is raw and the power of your voice is silenced by the fear of speaking out loud.

This is how they keep you small. This is how they keep you quiet.

This is how they keep you from being more than they will ever be.

And when they have almost succeeded, and you have forgotten the sound of your own name, let me remind you, my love.

Let me remind you that you have been created beyond compare. That every breath you take is the heartbeat of an answered prayer. You are perfect in your flaws; made more beautiful by the broken pieces you stitched together with your threads of courage and hope; threads that glimmer in the sunlight and warm the darkest shadows of those around you. You are a heart made of soft wool that wraps its compassion around others when the world gets too cold for them. You are the strength and resilience of an oak tree that others clamber beneath when the wind blows and the storm rages. You are the force of the night as it triumphs over the day; the softness of the tide as it surrenders to the moon.

You are incomparable fingerprints and remarkable thoughts imminent inside the beauty of your mind. Your eyes are colours of marbles not yet named and your laughter is made of music never heard before and your toes beckon upon winded paths not yet imprinted by others.

They will always try and make you feel inadequate.

And some days you will believe them. You will believe you are nothing more than the mistakes you live to regret, nothing more than the times you have failed, fallen short, the sum of your deficiencies. You will believe you are only deserving of love and acceptance if you comply, conform, make yourself less than so you do not overshadow or intimidate or threaten them with the fury of your flames. But you are born of the galaxies and made from the fire of the stars they contain.

You are here to burn for all that sets your heart on fire and watch it turn to gold.

They will always try and make you feel inadequate.

Don’t let them. Listen for the sound of your own name. For here lies everything you are. Everything they are afraid of. Everything they will never be.

And everything the world is waiting for.

And You Exist Inside My Veins

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And it is not love I want inside my veins
I’d rather saltwater seep under my skin
From oceans that fill my lonely dreams
For I am made of water, and love of oil
I have seen how their molecules resist
And repel against one another’s being
They pull away from each other, bitter
The only way I’ve known love to taste
No, I do not want love with all its agony
I would rather be drowned by the ocean
Than to have love flow through my veins
Where I’ll crave it the way I crave poetry
And red wine and the warmth of my bed
But still, your eyes are clear and in them
I see the same oceans of which I dream
You are tides that pull my mouth to you
The taste of saltwater sits upon your lips
And I know it streams through your veins
The same way that it does through mine
We are water, both hydrogen and oxygen
I long to resist the way I am drawn to you
But we are molecules attracted by forces
That cause my heart to betray its resolve
I tell you I don’t want love inside my veins
But I tattoo your name inside my forearm
And watch the letters bleed under my skin
And we both know my tongue speaks lies.

Give Me All Your Broken Pieces

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Give me all your broken pieces
And I will use them to build us
A house down near the ocean
Where the sound of the waves
Will hush your demons to sleep
A house with an open fireplace
Which will burn against the cold
That has forged into your bones
I will make sure the windows are
Bigger and taller than we are so
The light will fall in straight lines
Upon the shadows of your face
I will build us a house where the
Bed will always be warm and the
Smell of coffee as you wake will
Mingle with salt air on your skin
And in the evenings you will sit
In your favourite chair and I will
Pour you wine and read poems
That will sound like our prayers
And the words will be like balm
That soothes your aching heart
And if your broken pieces were
To become so sharp my fingers
Begin to bleed then I will write
Blood-stained words along the
Doorpost of our house that say
You are loved, and if you ever
Find yourself lost I will leave the
Porch light on and you will walk
Up the steps and read my words
And you will know you have found
Your way home.

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And This Is How I Love


This is how I love
I am like a wildfire in February
Propelled by the north winds
That rage with the same fury
As my breath upon your neck

I burn with chaos
I am madness that consumes
I hurl my passion at your skin
You are like sun-baked grass
My fingers catch you ablaze

My lips are ruthless
There is nowhere untouched
Every edge of your landscape
Ravaged in violent destruction
Til your bones are only embers

But you remain cool
You are frost under August sky
Damp wood upon a forest floor
You wince as my urgent flames
Burn against your faltered heart

You pull away
And I remember I am too much
That I am supposed to be meek
And in your distance I am wiser
But in your apathy I am left cold.

Find Me In The Space Between

Boho 2.jpgBetween who we pretend to be and who we think we should be there is a space where the truest version of ourselves exists.

We don’t often dwell in that space, but choose to exist on either side of it.

There is one side where we pretend to be someone we are not, where we project a false image of ourselves to others, believing that is what they want to see.

On the other side is where we spend our days striving to be better than, greater than, more than, because we believe the person in the space isn’t enough. 

Both sides exist because we are ashamed of the space between. The space where our mistakes live; our regrets, our sins, all the choices we have made that have hurt others or ourselves. The space where there is nowhere to hide our failures and all the ways we fall short, our flaws, our scars, our broken, our ugly, our messy. In this space we cannot fool ourselves with the false image we project to others. We cannot pretend to be anything more than what we are right now. We can only be real, raw, honest and authentic with ourselves.

Except, most of the time we would rather not be those things. We would rather cover the space with a bridge of lies that will carry us between who we want others to think we are and who we think we should be.

We don’t mean to lie, to deceive others, to pretend to be something we aren’t. But we’re ashamed of the space between, ashamed of our own inadequacy. We turn away from our truest selves because we are afraid to be seen – really seen. We are afraid of being exposed for what we are. We are afraid of rejection when acceptance is what our heart craves. But mostly we are afraid to discover that we were right all along, and our truest selves are unworthy of being loved.

The bravest thing we can do is choose to exist in the space between. To no longer pretend to be someone we are not. To no longer live as someone we think we should be. But to surrender to our authentic selves and to know we are worthy of love even in our darkest places, even in our unseen. To know we are enough as we are. To live inside all we fear that we may overcome. To embrace our broken, flawed, messy hearts and be reconciled back to our truest selves.

Because only when we choose to live from the space between can we ever truly live at all.

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Then You’ll Remember How To Fly


And he will offer you words
Handpicked from his fields
Where manipulation grows
Upon soils rich with deceit
They’ll look like wildflowers
That smell like new promise
And for a moment your heart
Will be fooled by their beauty
And your mind will then dwell
In places where luscious earth
Feels warm beneath your feet
And the purple heather sways
In time to the summer breeze
The places where wildflowers
Are born and freedom can be
Found under boundless skies
And for a moment you’ll think
He actually means it this time
Then you will look down upon
The marks around your ankles
And wrists that still weep tears
From shackles and chains that
He made you believe were love
And then you’ll remind yourself
That freedom doesn’t look like
A cage and love doesn’t look
Like abuse and once more
You will remember
How to fly.

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