Found (untitled song)

I cannot say that I was poor, grew up just to the right side of the tracks. Never could afford me private schooling but I could afford me some good ol’ smack.

You’re so sure it’s your fault when its obviously mine. As the lights dim by the coast I begin to tell you why.

I’ve got an extensive tee collection for a man who’s lost his shirt so many times. Make my way down a darkened road with some strings on my back & a new song on my mind.

You’re so sure its your fault and I’m so sure that its mine.

Spot me this, lady and her sigh, our paths just seem to cross from time to time. She’s always so sure of her direction, got it way more figured out than I ever have had mine.

She’s so sure its my fault and I’m so sure that she’s right. As we drive closer to the coast we can’t begin to tell you why.

Death Wears Indigo

Just breathe.

Let the crisp air enter your lungs. It may be biting, but it awakens you.

The autumn leaves in display, each one teetering through the air, a silent dance to the death as they fall to the ground.

The colors, the crunch. Fall tempts you to believe in the beauty of death. The flash of one’s life: vivid, messy, and swift before a graceful decent.

Yet, that is no longer the faith I cling to as I watch the children laughing, their joy in frolicking among the fallen. The death I know is not of a red, a yellow, or an orange. The journey to the ground is not silent.

Death does not heed to the notion ‘just breathe’. Death does slowly come and swiftly go, each breath giving way to a hollow gurgle. For the Death I know wears the color indigo.

He is a Was

He is warm, his shoulders are broad, and his hands are calloused. His hair, a sandy, brownish-red. His laugh, a chuckle. His skin a patchwork of freckles. His soul hidden behind those dreamy, coast-blue eyes.

He is gone. He is a was. He was warm, his shoulders were broad, and his hands were calloused. His hair was a sandy, brownish-red… but now my loved is dead.

My Favorite Shoes

March 19th, 2018.

It was a Monday in Montana. Sunny and hot, as I recall, but being Montana and not being much of an early riser, I had quickly dressed for work as though it was a cool, Spring day. I was wearing a black-and-white checkered, cardigan sweater over an ocean, teal dress. I got this dress at Target. I loved it for its high neckline which had like silver bedazzling around it. Something about this dress was just a tiny bit edgy, yet appropriate for my new teaching career. Under my feel like myself rebel teacher dress, I wore a pair of black leggings which ultimately led down to my favorite flats. I can’t even describe how much these shoes just tickled me. I had found them at Ross and tried them on for kicks or a joke. They were the only pair of the kind on the shelf; genie slippers that curled up at the toes. They were in a diamond, black-and-white, checkered pattern. The fabric felt almost like that of corduroy. To our surprise, my Ron’s and mine, they were completely adorable on. And for some pediatrist reason I’m sure that I’ve never researched, the pulling up of my toes made my flat-footed, painful arched feet feel amazing and I definitely tripped less. I wore these genie slippers almost every day with almost every outfit; even in the snow, even when they didn’t match, and even on this hot, Spring day. But after March 19th, 2018, I’m not sure I ever wore them again.