Lost and Found

I lost it.

Maybe some boy had it and was holding it hostage. Maybe it fell with my shattered heart and I missed it when I was picking up the pieces. Maybe I gave it away.

Maybe I learned better. Maybe I tossed it aside, shoved it in a book in a library, or under a chair in a classroom. Maybe I was taught to let go of it, to give up.

Maybe I threw it away myself. Maybe I blinded myself to how much I needed it. Maybe I convinced myself that I was better off without it. Maybe I wanted to lose it. Or maybe I was just careless.

Wherever it was, however I lost it, it was gone.

But you weren’t gone.

You picked up my puzzle of a heart and glued it back together, piece by piece. You taught me to think for myself, to be myself. You opened my eyes to the beauty of the world. You showed me that I needed it and, more importantly, wanted it.

I’ll never know where or how you found it, but you did. For that I am forever grateful.

Thank you for bringing back my smile.

The Tragedy of Unchanging Change

Open the blinds to another day. Some things never change. The curtains close at nightfall, giving us a false sense of security. And again they rise in the morning in the hopes of shining light on our chaotic lives. Wake, sleep, wake, restless sleep. It never changes. Walking numbly from day to day. Blast music in our ears to block out the painful screams of the world. Bass pounds through the floor in time with our pounding headaches. It’s always the same. The same notes, the same catchy lines. The same complaints and heartaches. Our lives, our world, are forever on repeat.

But then, in an unchanging way, everything changes. Our hearts close and love is lost. Our expectations for ourselves crumble and lust wins us over. Those who surround us turn down different roads and friendships are forever forgotten. Plans are abandoned, efforts are forfeited, goals slip by. Dreams? Never. Hope? A faint memory.

Nothing ever changes and, throughout it all, everything changes. What is the greater tragedy?

Just One Of Those Girls

Heavy breathing. Breathe in the warm night air, breathe out your soul. Separate your heart from your body. Self respect drips off with droplets of sweat. Lost along with self control. Spinning out, turned around, turning over and over, over each other. Under, over, next to me. Close to me, inside of me. Mind closes. Heart shatters. Body aches. Who am I?

Baby, Don't Hurt Me

Is it something you feel? Something you know the first time you look into their eyes? Is it destined, determined? Or is it something that you build up? Something you plan in your mind and put into action? Something you choose? Is it fact? Or is it fiction? Is it something we create to comfort ourselves? Something we design to convince ourselves that there is purpose, that we’re not alone? Does it save us or destroy us? Does it build us up or tear us down? Is it the most wonderful thing to ever grace us? Or will it be our demise? Or, somehow, could it be all of this and more? What is love?