Consistency is something I yearn for; routine is what I crave… Some sense of normalcy would be great…

Like a fine wine, I get better and wiser with time…

The more I live and experience life, the more I realize life is not about consistency at all… It’s about one’s ability to adapt to change…resiliency….being able to bounce back, accepting the bad with the good and making the best of it….

Life is not about the periods at the end of sentences…it’s all about the commas, colons, and semi-colons; a continuation of the preceding, and even when you think you’ve reach the end of your road; it’s at that moment you realize, you’ve only crossed a bend; and you will walk again…perhaps even run into the destiny predetermined for you to live…

Truthfully speaking, that’s what life is: realizing your destiny, the purpose for which you’ve been created…a purpose so great, you can only experience it through living life….it’s too much for you to handle right now…even when you have an “ah-ha” moment and everything makes sense, you’ve only tasted the tip of the iceberg…

So many more blessings in store…awaiting to be claimed…the challenge is in letting go of fear and releasing so that you can receive….

Praise God for commas, because they give me more to live for….

I will remember to appreciate the commas in my life: failed relationships, dysfunctional family, dead end jobs, financial instability, detrimental diagnoses, ignorance, fake friends, insecurity, low self esteem, uncertainty, disappointment,,,,,,,,will have no power over me, for they in and of themselves don’t define me, for my character is strengthened by successfully standing steadfast, prepared for the next comma, so bring it on


love just because

with head bowed, admiring the sand beneath my feet, holding tightly onto every word enunciated, on the brink, playing it cool

as we walk steadfast in beauty created specifically for us

as the sound of your voice, enhanced by children playing and laughing, as the wind sings a sweet song reflected in the swaying of branches

branches swaying, navigating through it all, without a map

or a destination

us, the branches connected by the root, stained with the purest, most powerful blood

we marvel in wonderment about his grace and all he has done for us

holding back tears of thankfulness, unable to speak

speaking through tears, unable to comprehend

looking in eyes hiding from the past, the present, the future

comforted by his words and overwhelmed by your presence

he was tortured and died, without evidence of guilt

we fail to believe in him and his word, even with documented acts of faithfulness, we fail to receive, but greedily accept the easy and the quick

it feels good, so it must be good

unsubstantiated, empty, psuedo happiness.

we deny being saved from a world that consistently lets us down, a world that causes us to bury our children and defend cowardice and ignorance

but he sent you to remind me that he did all of that, without us ever asking or deserving

he loved before we were ever a thought

he forgave before we knew we needed it

he sacrificed before i knew my name, let alone his


he did it,

just because.



my eyes are the windows to my soul

so I keep them covered.

hiding my deepest thoughts and most intimate desires.

damn, if you only knew…

you’d not only gazed into the brown, you’d get lost

so deep, you’d find the pink and

you could speak my words and write my thoughts

into our bible, making them our word.

our bond,


unable to be hidden behind tinted plastic framed in designer labels.

looking good on the outside,

disguising the ugly truth.

my true self, unknown to you.

withheld from you….

until you muster up the courage to pull back my blinds,

open up my gates,

and stimulate my mind, body,

uncover my soul.

but you chose to pull away, feelings surpassed.

and I chose to

keep on my sunglasses.

I Dream of Booty Calls

I close my eyes.

I see his smile, hear his laugh, feel his warm embrace as our moist bodies, permeating with perspiration from the knock out bout, are so close our rhythm is one beat in our unique love song.

Only to awake the morning after to the reality that the love we shared wasn’t love and was shared….a song everyone knew and loved.

I stand in the shower erasing the filth of yesterday’s promises, today’s guilt, tomorrow’s uncertainty and I run out of soap.

I pack my bag and leave before he ever awakes.

Only to then

open my eyes

and realize it was all a dream…

Living, Learning, Loving to Write and Writing to Live, Learn, & Love

Writing is therapy, this space is the couch, and we all rotate roles oscillating between therapist and client. Through openly expounding our thoughts, feelings, fears, wants, and needs are we able to connect through our similarities, instead of using differences divisively. Ultimately we grow into who we were created to be. So, put up your feet and share your insight. I’m all ears…..and eyes!