In Threes

There are times when my chest and lungs and heart are so full of love and longing and song lyrics that it feels hard to breathe or function or live.

It is in these precious moments that I most need a hug, a kiss, or a cuddle session.

Long distance is my current enemy, at the top of my hit list, my cosmic opposite.

I am in love with you.

Come home.




A long time ago after a trip to the mall with Memaw, I came home to my mommy crying.
“I lost.”
Oh mommy it’s just a game. Everybody loses sometimes.
“No baby. I lost you. You are going away.” Sobs escape through chilling words.
Where? I don’t want to go anywhere mommy. Please stop crying.
I began to cry as well. Even at the young age of 6 I had an unfortunate talent at absorbing others misery.
“You are going to live with your dad.”
Fast forward.
“No Jaid. We always loved you. We didn’t take you away from your mom. She manipulated you. Can’t you see the truth through all the lies? Look at all we bought for you. Look at all we’ve done for you”
I’m sorry. You must be right.
Fast forward.
Mom how could you lie?
Mom. I loved you first.
Please. Please realize you are lying.
“Baby I’m sorry. I am trying to tell try truth. I am telling the truth.”
Wait a second.
Fast forward.
Fast forward.
Can I…?
No. No. No.
No. No. No.
But why?
Disrespectful. Liar.
Ungrateful. Fake.
“Don’t do that..
Can’t do this..
Geez. You are just like your mom. I will not have that done to my kids. Stop.”
Hey. No I am not.
“You see Jaid, you don’t even know what you want. You don’t know. We do know. You’ve never lived it. We have. You have no idea what you are talking about.”
But, I do though?
This is my decision.
“If you can’t make the right decision on your own, we’ll make it for you”
What?! No way!
“Disrespectful, rude, ungrateful brat”
No, but really I..
“Jaid your dad didn’t want you. He had another girl he dated. He wanted me to get rid of you…”
“Lies, liar, fake”
Wait! Please this is me. I’m telling the truth. This is me…?

When do the lies end?
When did the truth begin?

Please just stop. Stop it.

Love? Truth? Trust? Right? Wrong?

What the hell is the difference?

No one ever asked me.

Promise of Love

I cannot promise  everything will be alright, 

But I can hold your hand throughout the night. 

I cannot remove those bruises and scars,

But I can kiss away your boundaries and remove the jail bars.

I cannot guarantee the boys and girls will like you,

But I can show you what it means to love in everything I do

One came, One died, One lives, One loves,

True freewill is found in that, so we can fly like doves.

Evil is hard, evil is broken, evil is sad, evil is meaningful,

Don’t be afraid to admit you are hurting; it’s not shameful. 

Admit you are weak, for in that Christ is strong, 

And denying yourself can never be wrong.

Never to Fade

I used to believe in 11:11 wishes, 

Used to dream of midnight kisses, 

I believed in these things and much more, 

But all that was in a time long, long, before, 

Before the boy ripped at my chest, 

Smiling, thinking he knew what was best, 

Tearing me limb from limb, reaching for my core, 

My insides are completely red, raw, and sore, 

Mutilated, none of these fairy tale dreams remain, 

My once white canvass has a permanent stain, 

a stain made in a fit of red passion all too fast, 

I guess intimacy and love were never meant to last, 

All my birthday wishes never did come true, 

Every day no longer bright, but gray & blue, 

Waking up in this big bed all alone, 

Searching for a nonexistent note by the hotel phone.

The young, beautiful boy disguised as a sheep, 

Snuck out quietly as a wolf, leaving me stuck in sleep. 


“Smiles, smiles, all around, a room full of teeth.”

Sitting on the bare, cold ground all alone, left only with my tears, I put my head down. Looking up hurts my head, and I reach up slowly to my temples, feeling the blood ooze slowly out. Through my blurred vision I see the room of people and gasp, about to cry out for help. My hoarse voice makes little sound, and the frustration I feel is taken out on the floor. Why can’t I think or speak clearly? Why am I here? Questions flow through my head just as the blood flows out of it. I look again at the room full of people and see smiles. Smiling? Why are they smiling at me? I need help! I again try to speak, and my pleas come out louder, but only a minuscule amount. The smiles are building frustration in my blood, and I could boil over any second. Damn them! Why are they not helping me? Ow, Ow, my head hurts. I taste salt and realize I’m still crying, but not from pain, only frustration. I can’t take it; I want to die. Kill me, Kill me please. My voice has come back and I scream at the smiling people, the fake dolls, the plastic room to kill me, kill me now. Finally a response from the people, but I don’t feel relief. The panic sets in. “No, no, no, I didn’t mean it, don’t kill me really, please help, my head is exploding with pain molecules. Please! Someone help!” The smiles close in, holding knives and clubs, waiting to tear me apart. My last thought is that if smiles are supposed to encourage, I’d take a frown any day.