not gonna write you a love song

everything is either over done or not done at all. i don't know how to help my heart. pretty sure i'm doing it all wrong. no idea how to stop the ache. neosporin and morphine for the heart. soothe the ache and heal the wound in record time. but i can't get that over the counter. i feel i would cry for days if life allowed me the time and privacy and i feel i might let my heart grow caloused otherwise. i'm tired.

you anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows

finding myself irreducibly grateful for...
the time to bake and clean
for long rides and sing-a-longs with my lovely sister
wonderfully ridiculous conversations with the Garcia-Torres extension of my family
a father who drives for hours so that i know i'm loved
a mother and aunt whose joy it is to prepare delicious mexican food for their children and spouses
people who remind me that the best things in life are indeed free
impromptu dance parties
& most of all for Love that restores my soul and gives enough grace for each moment

surely goodness and mercy follow me

this is grief
resting on grief
set on grief

the loss of one of the truest friends i have known to death
the loss of a part of my heart to a city i long to be in
and the loss of my true self to a crippling betrayal
these three, they are mountains on my chest weighing heavy and pushing all that's left of breath from my lungs. they are the shawdows that rise at the smallest pinprick of light, the tiniest sign of hope. they are the bastard children of a erroneous affair between my past and my present. their names Fear Shame and Longing and in their presence i have no hope
but in moments spent in the presence of grace i know it will come. i do not believe it, i cannot see it and most days i'm not sure i trust it. but i know it
he uttered something long ago and it resounds in my deepest parts. i hear the smallest whisper of it in the quiet moments. i feel it when he gives just enough grace for the moment
and for now its enough to keep me from going under.
thanks be to God

there's a path, and i've seen it before. and i know i've seen it many times before. And i know where it leads. i know the twists and turns and where it drops and raises. i know i don't like where it leads. but here it is again, in front of me, i've taken myself to it. there's a turn just a little ways ahead. i want to know what's around it. i've been around it many it times before, but i think maybe this time something different will be there. So i take a step in and go and look. it's the same. is another turn up ahead. i wonder what' is beyond that the same... and then the same... and then more of the same. and then i realize i've done it again. i've done the one thing i promised myself i wouldn't do. i walked down a path i had gone down before. down the twists and turns through night and day. during the day I look straight ahead but know every detail of every object beside me. it wasn't that long ago that i was walking down this path and looking at those very things. during the night I close my eyes and walk down the path in my head. it's been burned into my memory from repetition. at the end I look back and say goodbye to the path for the last time. here's the end and i know it's the end and here's a million other paths laid out before me. but I choose the one that leads back to the beginning of the old one. maybe next time I'll take the step forward instead of back.