she grew comfortable with mirrors when it didn't matter what she looked like on the outside but if who she was on the inside was someone she could live with.
sometimes your shopping cart disappears sometimes you don't have what you need when you need it or so you think until you go outside and find there are many shopping carts and people willing to help you.
when the horse hooves clatter through my mind the highway that turns circuitous I stop and breathe and find a place to sit down the reins wearing a permanent groove in my hands.
they say that you are a passenger eyes wide windows for the separating the paring of leaf from idea word from binoculars and fluid as the train upon its tracks.
dreaming is a dip in water a tiptoe in puddle three thousand leagues deep, so easy to lose oneself in the memory liquid covering, your skin on my lips.
when you stopped being afraid of what you wrote or what you said stopped juding the output by the input stopped needing approval for this next step looked at the wonderful thing you created.
what kind of people are we if someone can still walk into a store wearing layers of unwashed their life in the bags on their shoulders their unshaven faces hanging, nervous waiting in the deli line for sliced cheese...
and she ran though there was no fire to tend to the madness in her soul scorching every gentle surface counting her losses and thankful for the flatline of the road.
you cannot teach respect through shame or sincerity through guilt forced into action. only by feeling, communicating, and empathizing can we change the situation.