Last night I saw your ghost pedalling a bicycle with a basket towards a moon as full as my heavy head and I wanted nothing more than to be sitting in that basket like ET with my glowing heart glowing right through my chest and my glowing finger pointing in the direction of our home.

I don't have a single plan for my life more important than learning to love people well.

You can find me on the moon waxing and waning. My heart full of petals, every single one begging 'Love me, love me, love me. Whoever I am. Whoever I become.'

I intend to leave this life so shattered there's gonna have to be a thousand separate heavens for all of my flying parts

Lately I've been thinking about who I want to love, and how I want to love, and why I want to love the way I want to love, and what I need to learn to love that way, and how I need to become to become the kind of love I want to be. And when I break it all down, when I whittle it into a single breath, it essentially comes out like this: before I die, I want to be somebody's favorite hiding place, the place they can put everything they need to survive, every secret, every solitude, every nervous prayer, and be absolutely certain I will keep it safe. I will keep it safe.

and I wonder if Beethoven held his breath the first time his fingers touched the keys the same way a soldier holds his breath the first time his finger clicks the trigger. We all have different reasons for forgetting to breathe.

Someday we will dare to trade good for true