We are strangers

And the space between us

Is no longer awkward.

It feels more natural

To be apart

Than it does

To imagine us back together.

And that in itself

Makes me sad.

Your eyes are gray.

That's all I know,

You're swimming in it.

"It just didn't work..."

No, I guess not...

But I can't figure out

If it was by fate or

Because of the fact that you

Just gave up.

I miss your writing today, among other things. But I put the letters away a long time ago. I can't bare to keep trying to decipher what was real and what was a lie.

Rut

"We're hot and treading...",

They lie.

They're not devouring rugged rubble

Roads

That pine for European skies...

Pretenders drenched in eloquence-

Never surrendering their pride;

Rubber and pure ambition,

Saturated in their lies.

No, they-

Skid, spit, spew...

Mud up into the abyss where prayers

Wade back and forth through time;

Waiting on their maker to take them

And give them the final say.

They mark territories

On these couch cushions.

"She's a lonely soul-going nowhere..."

People say.

Oh, the wheels

I've confined my world to-

They were cheaply fulfilling,

Hub-caps appealing;

But I was ripped from fantasy-

Checked up on by reality...

Whose lyrics were doused in arsenic

Though they claimed the tick

Between "Sharp" and "Tactful".

He was

A little bit profane.

"Sir, please don't cross my path again...".

According to him-

Fingers that haven't grazed degrees;

Or that have received constant consistent C's-

Only bask in the static keys of perforated light;

Of small paycheck cubicles...

The devouring of "off-brand" pyramids

On

Looming grocery store nights.

So...

I got her

Medal shoes for

Treading backwards-

Half medal rounds;

Krazy glued them to her feet.

She's erasing twilights;

Thick navy eyes

And

Fire-twisted, tangerine skies

Where my tongue betrayed me.

Coffee over conversations

When

Truth delved so deeply into the

Crevices of lies

The combination

Birthed a hybrid category:

Glamourous gossip

Over

Phenomenal tragedies

Hand crafted by women who speak to much and know too little...

Breathing life into something more

Nostalgic than the truth;

Iced and laced with sweet grays-

Less bitter than a lie.

Oh, their craftsmanship

Solidified the walls

That suffocated you and I.

The acidity

Fascinated our

Sick tendency to

Rip

Each-other apart at the seams,

Causing Independence

To take sail

And voyage towards his own dreams.

We were fluid-

We were subject

To the vessels that carried us away

That pumped blood

Into the heart of the earth that was inevitably

Bound by time and

Fate

That

Demolished our

Blue-prints before

Warning us

That our attempts were too late.

I was an explosive

Volatile,

Time-bomb,

Fragile to the touch-

And you were

Dancing on a tight-rope

Spewing truths too

Corrupt

For my low tolerance

To tolerate.

So now we're voyaging elsewhere-

Some new frontier...

Knocking forts down

Or so it appears you are.

Do they act well for me;

Present me like

I'm moving?

If I spin in the opposite direction

I become a tornado that speaks gibberish

To your foreign eye

And stranger's tongue.

Your ears and

Night-time recollection

Will never conceive of

How near or far I've come.

So dig, delve

Hot treading babies

Into the deep southern clay-

Let me claim it glory whether or

Not I'm here to stay.

My hands just long to look occupied;

Like carpet bags are satiated-bellies full of supplies...

Like Europe is anticipating me on the other side.

I'll let you

Imagine what her medal shoes do...

When you drift away from me

And the music dies.

Little House

The warm floor expands beneath my

Soft bare feet;

It's glossed and vibrating the acoustics

Dancing off of Levi's guitar.

The berry coats my lips

And shimmers beneath the warm glow

Of a soft lamp.

The room is dim,

The candles dance as his voice fluctuates from

Low to high

To high

To low again;

The flame extends upward

Then condenses and expands outward.

He sings my heart...

Of heartbreaks

On long bus rides

In Europe-

Of ticking clocks

And love doesn't run out

Before logic.

But I don't pool backward into

Any memory of you

Because I do not allow myself to.

The frost kisses the window panes-

The smoke pipes outward

And dances across the silver

And navy quilts of October-

I am surrounded by warmth.

I feel a hand

Graze the freckles on

The top of my back.

And I'm home...

In this little house.

Back to the Drawing Board

My nose drinks...

My senses soak up the citrus of your cologne.

The soft cushions of my stomach

Are dissatisfied and unforgiving-

They reject you before my heart can.

My encompassing skin

Jumps to my own defense;

Fists clench-

Jaws tense...

I don't want you.

The insides of my chest and throat crawl

At your kind remarks,

My forehead scrunches

You pretend to know me...

You don't.

Only Thomas knows me.

My ears grow hot.

I want out of your reach...

Don't place your hand on my knee.

You're not him.

That's his knee-

If not by love then by

The loyalty that still cloaks over me.

Your eloquence

Composes the story you wish you were,

My intuition stirs...

I feel my body drift away, my heart escapes elsewhere in

A local earl-grey conversation...

The smell enters my nose...

And you're still not him.

I check my watch.

Your writing touches all the right notes...

But all I want is to rip out my own eyes

And burn my ears up so I can stop hearing you.

I wish your mouth would self destruct.

You pay the tab.

I watch your hands reach forward and I'm repulsed by them.

They are not his-

You don't have a freckle on your thumb.

My

Skin anticipates

The car seat

In which your lips will never meet mine-

Despite your firm belief...

Please stop touching me.

Do not touch me.

That's not your hand, sir.

That's Thomas' hand...

If not by loyalty than by the love

That's always been his.

There may be nothing left of he and I,

But there's nothing here,

In me

That wants you.

It's a long way home in awkward sighs...

Don't get my door,

That's what he used to do.

Praise God for

Southern gentlemen in delicious cologne...

But

I'll not hesitate in admitting

That all

I considered to be "home"

Was not sufficient.

It is not Luzerne...

You aren't him...

And if I can't have Thomas...

I'd rather be alone.

Foe-

This gray

That inspires backwards traveling;

Spirals still...

Awakens

The demons that stir thick;

Through this cauldron

Of fear my song of sorrow wades-

Worried-

My soul unsaved

Skids, grinds

Is stained by

Pavement.

You're a soft retreat...

In my old minds eye-

If only you'd been

What I wish you were...

I'd curl up

In you

And go to sleep.

I'm kind of uncomfortable

With my clearer skin,

Smaller waist-line

And

New ability to talk to

Absolutely anyone

Without feeling

Shrouded with

Shame

Or

Fear

Or

Embarrassment.

I'm not exactly sure when

My reflection became less yours and

More mine

But I'm not used to it.

I get this "sick-pit"

Feeling when I see my own pictures

It makes me lose my appetite

Causing me furthermore

To look less like myself.

My hair is much longer,

I've developed a new sense of style.

The best compliment I've heard in awhile:

"You look so healthy and alive."

I feel so raw and out of place.

Most of the time it's really great-

It's new...

Other times,

I go to bed at night

Pining to go backwards towards more familiar feelings.

I'm so much happier now.

I play HARD every day

So much so that I forget everything else...

Because I'm so immersed

In this new found freedom.

But I feel so different.

The other day Autumn and I were at Target

And I caught a reflection of myself.

I stood there for a moment in disbelief.

Everything about me has changed.

Do I like myself better?

Myself...

Myself...

I feel fuller

Than when you were filling me.

I filled my own empty vase.

This has caused me to pose the question...

Had I been full in the first place

Would I have looked your way?

Maybe...

But I think I would have seen all I see now

From the beginning.

The dynamics would be completely different.

Better?

Am I better?

Bigger.

I'm bigger.

That's what it is...

I am bigger than I was.

And even though it feels so awkward-

Now that I'm over the heartbreak

And

Out of love-

I think it's going to be okay.

Different...

But okay.

1.

I bound toward the glorious path of noon-day light; it is the luscious flame my soul wades through...it is my pool for drinking. I bask beneath it savoring the glory of Christ that my heart has been starved from throughout this entire dreary winter voyage. I devour each precious second that has sprung to life...I wrap them up in a locket for all the days are no longer enveloped by a melancholy tidal wave of gray. I am illuminated and pouring. Words drip from my tongue like honey some strands of pearls are slow like a summer day porch-swing melody, others dance fast away like the pulse of a hummingbird. They are oozing nectar. I feel the warmth of them slip off of my tongue where there is no more sorrow and no more pain. My hands are released from their chains and the scars have mended so beautifully it's almost as if they are non-existent, but I wear them proudly-they are symbolic of my battle. They are my badges of honor.

Now, the world has stopped spinning into the upward sky; your hands no longer intertwine with mine. Thank the Lord for the progress, for the spring in my step and the spring from which I now drink where life is a rich outpouring and there is only joy. Glory be to God! Backwards chained his doors; he melted every key...the padlocks were bigger than my fingers could pry. Thank God for making me small so that my words cannot take themselves back nor can my feet travel through time. I wept into my pillow-case once, whole seas composing sonnets about the reality of time and how cruel that it is. Praise God that all my wishes didn't come true...praise God for shattered mirrors and the ashes of demolished dreams. Praise God for placing a sea between me and the island of familiarity and drenching my soul with new blessings-whole gardens where I can memorize the smell of Autumn and the hands that drape me with thick blankets on couches in small houses on cold nights. She is home; they are a family. Woven together are the intricate strands of God's plan for my life...he didn't intend for me to live in the sky...but on the ground where I could feel my fingers dig deep into the earth until my soul bled mud and my veins spread themselves like those of a tree-firmly rooting me in the garden he'd created for me.

Now, the rain is cold but like a joyful symphony... it floods me-it bathes me and kisses my ears, my cheeks, my lips and even when it's stinging and harsh it is the reality of my humanity. I am small, I am alive. Praise God! I am smaller than God. Praise God. My hands steer no ship as all of mine have been wrecked. My sails have been tattered; my vessels demolished...with no remains. Ruin...oh the glory of it-praise God for the sweet addiction that courses through me now of being broken by him...praise God for the drought that starved me until I looked up to listen...and praise him for his mercy that he gave-more rain than I could drink from; nourishment to last eternity.

No life was there in such skies-only pillars with no foundation and fairytale watercolor dreams with no substance...it was a recipe for collapsing. But oh, now, I am firmly planted among the fuchsia, the violet, the tangerine colored tasty treats of spring whose pedals the rain springs off of and tap dances on top of. There is such joy here on the ground. Now, I can delight in the way sugar buries itself into my taste buds; the all encompassing buzz of joyful conversations in public places, the rushing of the city lights that flicker and stream, the night stars, the hypnosis of lightening bugs; the adrenaline of dreams...there is joy. There is joy in the crunch-crunching of each rouge leaf beneath the shine of my thick black boots...or the way my soul delights in burying my nose in Autumn's neck as she hugs me and I am wrapped up in the reality that my life had to offer so much more than the fairy-tale I'd composed with my ambitious empty rhetoric. Praise God that my life came apart at the seams!

Today,

I finally got my things back from you

In my mailbox.

Even the gift my mother gave you.

I think that's interesting.

But more interesting was the way I felt.

My breath caught in my chest,

When I saw an all too familiar envelope

With your hand-writing on it.

But when I opened it and pulled out

What should have

Hurt me...

It didn't.

I slipped my ring on my finger...

I put the widow's mite

In my pocket

And sighed.

I didn't miss you.

I wasn't sad.

Not even a little.

I felt wrong for not feeling sad...

I tried to be sad...

I even walked outside and sat down for a moment

To conjure up something sentimental

But there was nothing.

No...

I think I'm

I think I'm...

I think I'm

Finally...

Out of love with you.

I still feel sick

When I see you-

But I think that's just the habitual

Anxiety I build up in my own stomach

In preparation for the times

I know I have to see you.

Other than that...

I don't feel want.

I have no want for you.

None.

It's all gone...

I think after the mean-ness,

And much analysis of the mean-ness...

It was clear to me,

That you weren't going to discuss anything with me

You weren't going to give me closure.

I started working on closure for myself awhile back,

And I'm not saying I fully have it...

But I am saying I must be close...

I don't know what changed

Or when it

Changed...

But somewhere in between seeing

Her get into your car

On Sunday

And today when I opened my mailbox

I stopped loving you.

I'm not in love with you.

I don't even care for you that much.

You're like a stranger to me...

In the still quiet moments,

I am even already starting to forget what your face looks like...

It's just a figure...

With no features...

You're like a vacant hole.

You've been a stranger for far longer

Than our time apart...

And perhaps I never really knew you.

I don't think I did.

I don't love you.

Not an "I don't think..."

I redact that...

It's an absolute.

Thomas Howard...I do not love you anymore.

Not even a little bit. No feelings...there are no feelings.

None. Not bad ones, not good ones...there is nothing.

I feel nothing towards you.

And in response to my own question...

"Do you think we could ever be together again?"

The answer is no.

I never want to be with you again

(Never-mind your feelings about me)...

I don't want you anymore.

I don't love you anymore.

Your character bled through

And because of that...

I wonder if I ever really

Had the opportunity to love you at all.

Maybe,

Maybe not.

You've always been too much of a coward

To tell me

That you don't love me anymore.

Well...

I don't have any reservations in telling you-

I don't love you either.

I don't love you.

I don't love you

I don't love you.

I absolutely DO NOT love you.

And I never will again.

It's evident that you stink at forever promises...

So when you said you'd never want me again, I shook it off in disbelief...

But don't worry...

I promise you,

Thomas...

I'll be the one to make sure

We spend it apart.

Sunday at the anchor, I talked to the holy spirit for most of the sermon. I don't know who you're supposed to pray to...I've heard there are "rules" or something...but I suppose since they are all in one, and he's the guy that hangs out in my heart...I'd get to know him a little bit better and treat him like the person that he is.

So, I invited him to come paint with me in the garden, and I asked him if he could start being so big inside of me that I could go to sleep for awhile while he does his work. I really just want to rest in him. Honestly, if he could just take over my life for awhile, it'd be sweet. "Steer" I wrote in my journal. I talked to him a ton about peace and how I need it, and I asked him to be my armor...be my everything until I can put my feet back on the ground again. I said, "I'm way past listening to you...will you just live for me? I'm tired of screwing everything up with my stupid mouth." It was good. I left pretty refreshed.

So, we went and hung out in the garden for awhile. And I talked to him a lot about my heartache, and I told him that I really am not strong enough to deal with having endure the hurt that others are dishing out right now...(in silence or in speech or in physical action or in thought). All of a sudden this huge yellow butterfly came and fluttered my my face...it hesitated, and I breathed deep. The greek word for butterfly means "soul". I think that's pretty epic. So, I was hanging out with the holy spirit and this hip butterfly that I named Greco...and then all of these people started coming out the garden. I was surrounded with beautiful friends and the sun was shining and everything was vibrant and alive.

When you drove by...on your way to pick her up...

I noticed that all of my friends...

Were in a perfect circle.

You drove by behind all of them...

Bringing my eyes to the forefront

Instead of gazing past...

I realized everything I needed was right there.

I couldn't have been happier.

The holy spirit...

Is a fantastic friend.

The circle was

For me,

To fall asleep inside of.

I wonder where we lost the ability

To be

Honest with each other.

Somewhere-

In

Between the back-biting comments;

The thick woven lies...

There had to be a

Medium

That we could just never find.

What I really meant to say,

When I verbally assaulted you in the parking lot-

Was that I love you.

What I really meant to say...

When everyone was talking about

How you took C. out on a date for your birthday-

Was that...

I wish you hadn't.

I wish you'd taken me out for your birthday...

In my seat.

I drowned in ill comprehension

Of how you could

Move on

So fast.

I missed your birthday last year...

The day before we got together.

I saw you guys leave together

On our one year anniversary...

I was painting in the garden.

Man,

You drive off fast.

But my heart didn't sink.

I expected all of this.

I expected that we couldn't just break it off easily...

We'd have to burn it down.

You're fire

And I'm earth.

That's just the way it goes...

That's just the way it goes...

So, burn me up.

I'll lay underneath you;

I'll crunch under your feet just to feel them.

What I meant to say,

Was not what was said.

We're lost in translation...

And I suppose you don't care about clarification.

Because I can go on suffering,

While you hold the truth in your hands...

You've got me on a

String

Always waiting for any answer

That makes sense.

The new Coldplay C.D. sounds better than all of your empty rhetoric.

And it loves me back...

It was made for me...

For Autumn and I.

There is a lyric I love

"[it's] a spark in a sea of gray..."

I was the spark...

And you were the sea of gray.

But now I've sailed so far away.

There's also a lyric:

"Like a teardrop to an ocean I lost a friend..."

I lost you...

In your sea

But oh-

How far I've come

Since you left me.

Our Song

Oh morning
Come bursting
The clouds amen
Lift off this blindfold, let me see again
And bring back the water that your ships rode in
In my heart she left a hole...

The tightrope that I'm walking just sways and ties
The devil as he's talking with those angel's eyes
And I just want to be there when the lightning strikes
And the saints go marching in

And sing
Slow it down
Through chaos as it swirls
It's just us against the world

Like a river to a raindrop
I lost a friend
My drunken has a Daniel in a lion's den
And tonight I know it all has to begin again
So whatever you do, don't let go

And if we could float away
Fly up to the surface
And just start again
And lift off before trouble just erodes us in the rain
Just erodes us in the rain
Just erodes us, and see roses in the rain

Sing
Slow it down
Oh, slow it down

Through chaos as it swirls
It's us against the world

Through chaos as it swirls
It's us against the world.

"Us Against the World"-Coldplay

I wish I never knew you.

Dear Sal,

So, that is the end of the story? That is not sufficient.

Please, tell me-I beg you...that you'll start speaking now.

Please, tell me-you won't let that fire burn out.

Thank goodness you'll reap the benefits of the path that was chosen for you;

Money will be steady...you'll be able to support yourself and do what you were made to do.

You constantly tell me how my writing has helped you...what if I stopped?

By stopping, you're depriving not only yourself but people like me, who would be

Inspired by your work...who might even ask you to compose a book with me full of

My writing and your pieces.

Never give up on the gifts God gave you.

Be true to yourself.

happy birthday to you,

tomorrow.

happy one year anniversary

sunday.

happy happy

happy happy

i hope you're happier...

i really do.

I talked to Kevin Hester today and it really smoothed some things out for me. It was great, because I've been so lost lately. I don't know what God has planned, but I feel it unfolding, as Emerson would say like "a vegetable bud". Something brilliant is on the horizon, my premonition just tells me so. It's inexplicable...so much has happened so far. I've grown so much since "the end" of it all. I'm in between admitting that it might have been worth it, and denying that life without him could ever be better. Better? No...this really is all just different.

I think about all I've gained. Autumn...what about Autumn? If I hadn't had Autumn, I'd never have Nathan J. or Georgia or John Palmer or Meg and Shannon. I wouldn't have all of my girls if this hadn't happened: Loren and Sunni and Kaylee Ray, I wouldn't have Nathan S. I wouldn't have...this new piece of myself that I never had before. For all the things I lost...I gained. But oh...his hands. Could anything ever take their place?

No...

I wish I could have had both. But I couldn't...

I can't...

Would I go back? If I could choose to undo it all...if I could choose to give up what I have now for what I had then...

Would I?

No...for one reason and one alone. The people I have in my life now...won't leave. And he left. So, I can't look at what I had...because the truth is...I don't have it anymore (in actuality I never had it to begin with or he'd be here). All the promises that felt good meant nothing-the "forever love" wasn't forever. Everything fell through. It was just a pop up house waiting to collapse. But this...this is real.

And you left, again today...

I swear

It won't stop raining

You're so gray...gray gray...

But the guitar still sings,

And I've still got my bear hat.

For tonight, I'll be okay.

Oh Weary My Soul...

I mourn the death of us and all we were before our tragedy; before words were too poisonous, before silence was infiltrated with static...before tongues bit instead of loved, before mouths met instead of slung empty rhetoric and ruthless razor blades...before fingers clawed instead of exploring the console of your car to find each other. What we had is the kind of love people spend their whole lives wishing for. It was such a beautifully composed tragedy.

I held a crystal vase in my hands. God gave it to my hands; for my hands alone. I loved it immeasurably; it was unique. It was so intricately crafted. It was as timeless as it was rich, it held stories, and sorrows-it knew every laugh and every fear. It was breathtaking and bold. Each element of it glistened with romance and bliss and magical symphonic notes with trills and glorious hues of color; it was a dynamic reflector of light.

Until one day...it shattered.

I dropped it.

I watched the pieces cascade across floor, mourning every one. Shards of glass were all that remained of my blessing-my most precious gift. No-matter how hard I tried, I couldn't put the pieces back together again. So I laid down against the glass and let it tear into my skin because without it I am only half...I wanted to keep it...to feel it in my blood even if it hurts. And I want to feel him against my skin again; where breath or sweat or words might mix with laughter or tears. Because even at his worst he's the best. And I could live the rest of my life with him at his worst every day just to have the honor of loving him.

It's hard to write a book report while weeping.

Everything

Gets

Blurry.

And maybe after-all,

It really is

Just no one's fault

And I have to let you go-

I have to love you enough

To let you go love someone

Who could love you better

Than I could ever conceive of.

How big a person that must be...

Maybe I'll never stop dreaming big just for your sake.

I'll dream of the kind of love that exceeds even

The greatest kinds of love.

That's what I want

For you

I pray,

Someone will love you more than I do.

There are things about to happen

That I do not understand.

I feel them...

They are stewing beneath the surface.

I might be destroyed...

But I'll be okay-

I'll be okay...

I...

I don't have to understand.

I don't have to understand why you do the things you do

Or what you're about to do.

But I feel the tragedy coming...

And where I thought it was going to get better...

My premonition knows

It's only going to get

So

Much Worse.

You don't fight fair.

You never have.

It's only about to get ten times worse.

If love is a choice,

I wish I could choose to stop.

I am rainy

And cold

And freezing;

This gray won't fade.

I saw you out getting coffee,

I regretted yesterday...

But I went out the front door so you wouldn't see me.

I had everything to say.

Today, I told you exactly what I think of you. It was liberating and fierce. I was brave. You walked away unscathed as always, but the power I took back flooded me. Part of me feels static and is still running on adrenaline, the other part of me is conflicted because I care about you so deeply. When you hurt, I hurt-because I'm soft. I've always been that way. I ache because I never want to hurt you...no-matter how much you've hurt me. But I'm not going to apologize. I'm not going to take back what I did. I'm conflicted about it...but I'm not sorry. I realize we are called to a holier way of living and we are supposed to approach things as Christ would approach them...but today I got my gut full. I got my gut full of no responses, broken promises, unfaithfulness, your constant need for female attention, hearing about how you're already "talking" to other girls...I got sick of it. I think it's interesting who you left chapel with. I think it's interesting the night you came into chapel with her. Body language speaks volumes. And you...though so complex are more transparent than you seem. I was just a number. I was just Jade...always expendable. Jade.

In the garden, you kissed my feet once.

What happened to you?

I Miss this Night above All Nights:

I now can see

All my love did

In his eyes.

Today, I drove eleven hours alone.

Hannah Ward wasn't able to make the trip with me...

[But of-course you know that...I've heard all about the texts...]

So I left as early as I could...

You know,

I'm terrible at driving in the dark.

When I crossed the bridge into Memphis

I actually started clapping

And cheering aloud for myself!

I was overjoyed

I was so proud

GoJadeHIPHIPHOORAY!

I. made. it...I made it all the way

From Oklahoma to Tennessee...

By myself---

All by myself!

Just me!

Just Jade!

Not you;

No texts from you...

No concerned phone calls...

No missed messages,

No "I love you's"...

Just me...

And I proved to myself

I can do it-

I really can do anything;

Maybe

Even...

Everything

Without you.

If I could be anywhere in the world right now...it'd be with Autumn, Nathan and Esteban (whom I haven't met yet). I'm going to creepishly admit...I want to be best friends.

I Finally Have a Crush on the RIGHT Person...

And it's myself.

She's great.

Thank God

For text messages from

Autumn Fitzgerald

and...

Nathan J. Bond.

#lifeline.

I've got all your dirt beneath my

Nails

And I'm just itching to scratch

You back

With it.

A Certain Number in the Corner

Said you whispered her way;

Am I surprised?

Not today...

All you are is insecurity.

"A man's growth is seen in the successive choirs of his friends."

-Ralph Waldo Emerson