Isn’t Your Heart Full?

I cannot seem to understand how hate can reside in a heart.

How is there room? 

Isn’t your heart full of love?

Love for your life? 

Love for your friends? 

Love for your family? 

Isn’t your heart full of hope?

Hope for tomorrow? 

Hope for a thousand tomorrows? 

Isn’t your heart bursting at the seams? 

So, how is there any room for the hate you have for me?

When You’re Away

Sometimes I wear your shirts.

Sometimes I feel so small that I will shrink inside of it and no one will ever find me.

Sometimes I wear your boots.

Sometimes I feel as if the weight of where you are will crush me under the heel.

Sometimes I wear your tags.

Sometimes I look down to see your name and feel brave enough to face the day.

Sometimes I wear the smile you left me.

Sometimes it’s all I need.

This Moment

Every word seems empty. 

No matter how hard I try to articulate this place, I fall short. 

I’m grasping for something. 

I know it. 

My heart is too full, or is it too empty? 

I’ll just let the string quartet play.

Chronic Illness

Chronically sick.

Chronically tired. 

Chronically afraid.

Chronically explaining.

Chronically defending.

I’m chronically sick and tired of being afraid that I will have to explain and defend my body to you.