Until The Stars Collapse

you owe it to yourself to quit being the apology. to
hold your hand and sing your favorite song. to
love another and see how far that will go. to love
yourself and forget where you were headed in the
first place. love is a funny story. it wakes up and
builds a plot. it wakes up and shapes you into the
kind of woman your mother studies. i am not per-
fect in it. i am not even remotely articulate. but it
is big, this love. it is airborne and triumphant. i am
no easy show. i hurt like the climb of my lineage. i
hurt on purpose. i hurt to not be hurt. no, none of
this is an excuse. just a blueprint. a map. come
find me when the day is bronze and the sorrow is
full. i am building my poem in this here heart. all
of it is a working title.