in my private moment of stolen grief

by public views of what appears

to be a happier version of me

what appears in blink of thunder and flash

to protect brokenness as leaky puddles

of someday when change comes

someday when the world is full stupid some-days

we can’t be tired of being sick and tired too long

because too many of us are dying under the burden of grief

head stones that roll away love in private pastures, shouting to the pieces of the soul that fly. Stay a little longer and let me be human with holes in the middle of my flesh and wounds that remember the safety in the someday when we go home where love is~kindness sister Krissy