love with(out) a limit

self. less.

from the gray

being his safety net was somehow reassuring, the knowledge that he would be back to fall into me, a comfort. even though it was always temporary. loneliness does that. the yearning heart will accept the unacceptable when it means a moment without pain. a moment of forgetting he was not mine.

I am his hammock no more. can’t be. will not be. he may have chosen to settle, but that doesn’t mean I will. he must learn to live with his choices, as I have been forced to live with them, without any net to catch my falls. my love was not meant to be his getaway in the shade. while he was always my exception, I remained his excuse. but the gray was never my hue, so I have cut the net. for good.

the light (so heavy)










The gavel I use against myself would be better served against others. For too long, I’ve forgiven but not forgotten, allowing losers to cross the finish line. But I knew all along they did not deserve a medal. Yet I awarded them the prize of my patience and humility. All the time my cells clamored in my gut, telling me to question their integrity, that their merit was flawed. I reserved all judgment against their lies and shortcomings, but liberally banged the gavel at my own sentencing. Now I am aware, as the price of gold continues its climb, that my medals are worth as much as my name. So I will scrutinize their every foot fall, challenge every questionable turn, because I am worthy of the race.


You cannot find it on a map. There are no discounts, nor are there shortcuts. The highways and wrong turns I take may be the direct path for someone else. And even if we find each other along the way, we were meant to travel different paths. Because love is a journey. One we cannot help but make.