And every memory of you is a halt, a clot where all my blood-rushing veins just stop, and most days I can’t remember how to bleed. - Andrea Gibson

I know this world is far from perfect.
I am not the type to mistake a streetlight for the moon.
I know our wounds are deep as the Atlantic.
But every ocean has a shoreline
and every shoreline has a tide
that is constantly returning
to wake the songbirds in our hands,
to wake the music in our bones,
to place one fearless kiss on the mouth of that new born river
that has to run through the center of our hearts
to find its way home.

I want to break every promise I have made to my pain.

We all have hearts that wanna be old pick-up trucks
permanently parked in someone's front yard.